KATHERINE   EARLE 


MISS    ADELINE    TRAFTON, 

AUTHOR  OP    "AN   AMERICAN  GIRL   ABROAD," 
ETC. 


ILLUSTRATED. 


BOSTON : 
LEE     AND     SHEPARD,    PUBLISHERS, 

NEW   YORK  : 
LEE,  SHEPARD  AND  DILLINGHAM. 

1874. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Confess,  'n  the  year  1874, 

BY   ADEMNK   TUAFTON, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Electrotypcd  at  the  Boston  Stereotype  Foundry, 
No.  19  Spring  Lane. 


THE  GENTLEST  CRITIC  IN  THE  WORLD, 

Pg  Pother, 

I   DEDICATE  THIS   BOOK. 


2068274 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  HEROINE  MAKES  A  VERY  AWKWARD  LITTLE  Bow 9 

CHAPTER  II. 
KATEY  FINDS  A  FRIEND 21 

CHARTER  III. 
HAPPY  DAYS 33 

CHAPTER   IV. 
THE  BEGINNING  OF  THE  END 45 

CHAPTER  V. 
KATEY  ACTS  THE  PART  OF  A  DELIVERER 56 

CHAPTER  VI. 
ALMOST  A  MARTYR 65 

CHAPTER  VII. 
WHERE  is  BEN? 75 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
IN  WHICH  THE  OLD  YOUNG  MAN  APPEARS.  84 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   IX. 
DACRE  HOME 100 

CHAPTER  X. 

WHERE  MORE  is  MEANT  THAN  MEETS  THE  EAR Ill 

CHAPTER   XI. 
PITY'S  AKIN  TO  LOVE 124 

CHAPTER  XII. 

NEW  ACQUAINTANCES 132 

CHAPTER  XIII. 
CAP  AND  BELLS 144 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
"  How  LIKE  YOU  THIS  PLAY?" 154 

CHAPTER  XV. 
A  NEW  LIFE 162 

CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  AND  ONE  WAS  WATER,  AND  ONE  STAR  WAS  FIRE." 179 

CHAPTER  XVII. 

THE  RED  ROSE  CRIES,  "SHE  is  NEAR,  SHE  is  NEAR."    AND 
THE  WHITE  ROSE  WEEPS,  "  SHE  is  LATE."     ........    193 

CHAPTER   XVIII. 
A  CHAIN  TO  WEAR 202 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

FAR  FROM  THE  EYES,  FAR  FROM  THE  HEART  ! 209 


CONTENTS.  1 

CHAPTER  XX. 

"  AND  ONE  WAS  FAR  APART,  AND  ONE  WAS  NEAR." 218 

CHAFfER  XXI. 

"  I  AM  NOT  Y^KLL  IN  HEALTH,  AND  THAT  IS  ALL." 229 

CHAPTER  XXII. 
THE  PICNIC 242 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 

KATEY'S  CONFESSION 252 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 

Do  WE  KEEP  OUR  LOVE  TO  PAY  OUR  DEBTS  WITH? 264 

CHAPTER  XXV. 
A  BEGGAR-MAID 277 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERE'S  ROSEMARY  ;  THAT'S  FOR  REMEMBRANCE 287 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 
UNTANGLING  THE  SKEIN 297 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 
NORTH  AND  SOUTH 306 

CHAPTER  XXIX. 
MARRIAGE  BELLS 322 


KATHERINE  EARLE. 

CHAPTER    I. 

THE   HEROINE  MAKES   A   VERT  AWKWARD   LITTLE   BOW. 

THERE  stood  upon  Poplar  Street  in  Boston,  twenty 
years  or  more  ago,  one  of  those  great  wooden 
mansions  in  which  our  forefathers  of  pre-revolu- 
tionary  times  delighted  —  the  embodied  conception, 
to  their  minds,  of  elegant  homes.  Progress  and  so- 
called  necessity,  and,  above  all,  the  restless  spirit  of 
Young  America,  are  now  fast  sweeping  them  from 
sight.  This  has  been  gone  for  years,  and  a  brick 
school-house  reared  in  its  place,  where,  most  appro- 
priately, ideas  of  progress,  utility,  and  irreverence 
for  the  old  and  useless  are  implanted  in  the  minds 
of  the  rising  generation. 

The  street  is  still  narrow,  the  expansion  of  mind 
which  has  gradually  enlarged  the  borders,  the  phari- 
saical  spirit  of  greed  and  gain  which  has  made  wide 
the  phylacteries  in  other  parts  of  the  city,  having 
done  little  or  nothing  here.  It  was  at  that  time,  and 
is  now,  a  line  between  affluence  upon  one  hand  and 

9 


10  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

respectable  poverty,  looking  towards  squalor,  upon 
the  other.  Block  after  block  —  with  this  one  excep- 
tion—  of  brick  or  stone  houses  filled  the  street; 
chrysalides,  from  which  the  old  inhabitants  have  long 
since  winged  their  way  to  airier  and  more  elegant 
quarters. 

The  Earle  house,  of  which  we  speak,  stood  upon 
the  right  hand,  where  the  street  bends  to  fall  towards 
the  glimmer  of  water  lined  off  with  masts,  faintly 
perceptible  between  the  dull  rows  of  ugly  houses,  at 
their  termination.  Its  face  was  turned  away  from  the 
street,  and  its  old  eyes  stared  across  the  narrow  strip 
of  yard  upon  a  blank  brick  wall.  There  had  been 
gardens  about  it  once,  in  the  far-off  time  when  the 
family  was  rich  and  held  its  own ;  then,  too,  green 
meadows  stretched  away  from  the  garden  wall  down 
to  the  water's  edge.  In  those  days,  when  his  majes- 
ty's troops  were  quartered  in  the  town,  General  Gage 
had  more  than  once  honored  the  house  with  his  pres- 
ence. The  wine-glass  could  still  be  shown  which  he 
had  drained,  and,  smiling  down  now  from  among  the 
portraits  upon  the  walls  was  a  fair  Delphine  Earle, 
with  powdered  hair  and  in  shining  brocade,  into  whose 
ears  he  had  whispered  stately  compliments.  Ah,  how 
the  beautiful  garden  blossomed  with  gold  lace  and 
scarlet  uniforms  —  a  gorgeous  century  plant,  nipped 
later  by  New  England  frosts  !  But  times  changed ; 
wealth  and  power  slipped  away  from  the  family.  The 
town  grew  into  a  city  ;  meadows  and  gardens  disap- 
peared ;  only  the  old  house,  dingy,  forlorn,  —  a  wreck 
of  its  former  self,  —  remained. 

It  was  a  cosy,  old-fashioned  room,  where  the  Earle 
family  were  assembled  one  winter  evening,  twenty- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  11 

five  years  ago.  The  faded,  heavy  hangings  over  the 
windows,  the  carved  straight-backed  chairs,  the  mas- 
sive round  centre-table,  with  lion's  claws  for  its  sup- 
port, the  wide,  tarnished  frames  upon  the  walls, 
enclosing  dim  old  portraits,  even  the  soft  confusion 
of  warm,  worn  colors  under  one's  feet,  told  of  sub- 
stantial wealth  and  comfort  —  but,  alas  !  of  the  wealth 
and  comfort  of  a  former  generation. 

A  low  fire  snapped  and  flamed  upon  the  hearth. 
Before  it,  in  one  of  the  high-backed  chairs,  sat  the 
mother  of  the  family.  The  face,  although  faded,  was 
still  beautiful  in  its  outline.  The  hair,  brown  and 
smooth,  was  put  away  under  a  head-dress  in  the  form 
of  a  turban  of  lace,  which  yet  suggested  a  widow's 
cap.  Her  eyes  rested  thoughtfully  upon  the  fire  ;  her 
thin,  shapely  hands  held  a  little  note  as  they  lay 
crossed  in  her  lap.  Curled  into  a  graceful  heap  upon 
the  sofa  in  one  corner,  her  arms  under  her  head,  her 
face  turned  with  eager  expectation  towards  her  moth- 
er, was  Delphine,  the  eldest  of  the  three  children,  who, 
indeed,  had  outgrown  childhood,  and  was  eighteen 
and  a  beauty.  Jack,  five  years  younger,  bent  over 
his  lessons  at  the  centre-table,  where  Katey,  almost 
eight,  nestled  close  to  his  side,  her  head  hidden  in  a 
book  so  large  that  she  seemed  to  have  vanished  be- 
hind a  folding  screen. 

"  You  can  go  if  you  wish  to,"  the  mother  said  at 
length,  fingering  the  note  in  her  hand  ;  "  but —  " 

Delphine  sat  upright  to  clap  her  hands  softly. 
-  Jack  raised  his  face.     "I  hate   parties,"   he   said, 
sententiously. 

"  How  can  you  say  so  ?  "  returned  Delphine,  whose 
face  flamed  and  shone  at  the  vision  the  words  had 


12  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

called  up  —  the  rare  bit  of  color  in  a  dull  life.  "  You, 
would  like  to  go,  Katey  ?  " 

A  pair  of  great  dark  eyes  in  the  midst  of  a  pale,  ab- 
sorbed face,  a  mass  of  dark  hair  hastily  thrust  back 
from  a  low,  wide  forehead,  emerged  from  the  covers 
of  the  book. 

"  To  go  where  ?  "  and  the  child  gave  a  bewildered 
glance  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  Why,  to  Janie  Home's  party,  of  course,"  Delphine 
explained,  impatiently.  Her  bright,  fresh  nature, 
with  its  keen  enjoyment  of  the  present,  had  many 
a  trial  in  Katey's  slow  travelling  home  from  a  thou- 
sand miles  away,  where  her  thoughts  seemed  always 
wandering. 

"  I  don't  know  ;  "  and  one  little  brown  elbow  rested 
upon  the  book-cover,  and  one  little  brown  cheek  dis- 
appeared in  the  palm  of  her  hand,  as  Katey  proceeded 
to  consider  the  subject.  But  Delphine  had  already 
forgotten  her  question.  "I  shall  have  to  wear  the 
green  pongee,"  she  was  saying,  with  a  sigh,  "  and 
those  dreadful  slippers !  I  only  need  a  cap  and 
bells,"  she  added,  with  a  shrug  of  her  shoulders. 

A  warm  color  which  was  no  reflection  from  the  fire 
rose  in  Madam  Earle's  face.  Pride  is  the  last  to  die. 
"  Perhaps  you  had  better  stay  at  home,"  she  said. 

But  every  mortification  and  pain  had  its  bright  side 
to  light-hearted  Delphine.  "  I  shall  not  mind,  though, 
in  the  evening,"  she  went  on ;  "  and  perhaps  the 
slippers  will  be  too  small  by  another  year,  and  so  fall 
to  Katey.  Poor  Katey  !  I'll  try  and  dance  them  out 
before  that ;  "  and  she  laughed.  No  care  could  rest 
upon  Delphine ;  no  trouble  could  long  shadow  her 
face. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  13 

The  slippers  were  one  of  those  seeming  blessings 
which  in  the  end  prove  almost  a  curse.  For  a  lit- 
tle time,  several  years  before,  an  old  actress  had 
rented  a  room  in  the  house,  and  one  day,  in  looking 
over  her  treasures,  had  come  upon  these  relics  of  past 
times,  the  rather  tawdry  magnificence  of  which  had 
struck  Delphine's  fancy.  They  were  of  gray  kid, 
profusely  ornamented  with  gay  silk  embroidery  some- 
what faded,  and  tarnished  gold  braid  ;  and  when  they 
were  presented  to  the  child  her  joy  was  full.  She 
could  not  rest  content  until  she  had  displayed  them 
upon  her  feet,  a  world  too  large  though  they  were  ; 
and  one  summer  day  she  prevailed  upon  her  mother 
to  allow  her  to  wear  them  to  church.  Poor  Delphine  ! 
it  was  an  experiment ;  ending  as  do  so  many  among 
older  and  wiser  people.  Hardly  had  the  great  black 
gate  swung  to  behind  her  before  she  became  conscious 
of  attracting  an  amount  of  attention  upon  which  she 
had  not  reckoned.  Stares  met  her,  and  whispered 
words,  with  suppressed  laughter,  followed  her  all  the 
way.  As  she  turned  into  Brattle  Street,  and  ap- 
proached the  church  where  the  Earles  had  worshipped 
since  its  foundation,  every  eye  of  the  gathering  crowd 
seemed  bent  in  surprise  and  amusement  upon  her 
shoes.  She  might  better  have  been  shod  in  her 
naked  feet.  Too  proud  to  turn  back,  she  hastened  on 
until  the  pew-door  made  a  shelter  and  a  refuge. 
Then,  during  the  first  prayer,  while  the  congregation 
bowed,  with  any  but  a  prayerful  spirit  in  her  angry 
heart,  she  slipped  out  of  the  church  and  ran  home 
through  the  deserted  streets.  Since  that  day  the 
slippers  had  shone  with  diminished  lustre,  and  only 
by  gas-light,  upon  the  rare  occasions  when  some  of 


14  KATHERTNE  EARLE. 

the  school- children  entertained  their  friends.  Even 
then  they  were  regarded  doubtfully  by  the  girls,  and 
would  have  won  many  a  taunt  and  jeer  from  the  boys, 
who  go  straight  to  the  mark  in  such  matters,  but  for 
Delphine's  beauty,  which  made  of  every  boy  a  cour- 
tier ;  and  courtiers  are  smooth-tongued. 

Katey  sat  quite  still,  lost  in  thought,  though  Del- 
phine's voice,  grown  merry  now,  still  went  on.  "  "What 
is  it,  kitten  ?  "  whispered  Jack,  struck  at  last  by  the 
strange  attitude  and  absorbed  face.  "  Don't  you  want 
to  go  to  the  party  ?  " 

She  turned  her  eyes  gravely  upon  him  without 
speaking.  Then  she  stealthily  pushed  her  little  foot 
out  from  under  the  short  gown.  There  was  a  yawn- 
ing rent  upon  one  side  of  her  shoe.  "  I  have  no 
others  ;  "  and  the  dark  eyes  displayed  a  depth  of  de- 
spair which  touched  Jack's  heart.  He  thrust  his 
freckled  fingers  into  the  red-brown  hair  hanging  over 
his  forehead,  and  stared  at  the  page  before  him.  Poor 
Jack  !  What  wild  impossible  schemes  were  conjured 
up  in  his  brain  at  that  moment,  as  he  felt  the  weight 
of  the  hardest  of  all  poverty  to  bear  —  that  which 
goes  hand  in  hand  with  pride  —  good,  honest  pride, 
too,  which  is  not  to  be  scoffed  and  sneered  at ! 

"  I'll  have  'em  mended  !  "  he  whispered  in  sudden 
inspiration,  coming  down  from  a  vision  of  dainty  pink 
satin  slippers  to  the  practical  and  possible.  "  I'll 
take  them  to  old  Crinkle  the  first  thing  in  the 
morning." 

"  Will  you  ?  "  Katey  nestled  nearer  to  him.  Dear 
old  Jack  !  He  made  many  a  crooked  way  straight  to 
the  little  feet.  "  Then  I  can  go,"  and  her  face  shone  ; 
"  but  I  never  saw  a  party  in  .my  life.  What  is  it  like  ?  " 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  15 

she  added  curiously,  as  though  it  had  been  some 
strange  kind  of  an  animal,  for  instance. 

"  Like  —  0,  like  —  like  —  "  but,  failing  in  a  simile, 
Jack  came  to  a  pause.  He  was  bashful  to  a  painful 
degree,  and  shrank  always  from  notice.  The  party, 
from  which  there  was  no  escape  if  Delphine  were 
really  going,  was  anything  but  a  pleasure  in  anticipa- 
tion, and  yet  he  could  not  check  Katey's  eager 
interest. 

"  Why,  they  just  walk  round,  you  know,  and  show 
their  fine  clothes,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  But  we  haven't  any  fine  clothes  !  " 

This  was  too  true  to  be  denied,  and  Jack  was 
silenced  for  a  moment ;  but  a  certain  pain  in  the  dark 
eyes  made  him  go  on  hiding  his  own  forebodings,  and 
holding  up  only  what  was  bright  and  pleasant  before 
the  child. 

"  And  they  play  games." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  exclaimed  Katey,  eagerly.  Then,  after 
a  moment's  pause,  "  though  I  don't  know  any  games." 

"  And  then  there's  the  supper,"  Jack  went  on,  almost 
persuading  himself,  as  Katey's  face  brightened  more 
and  more.  "  That's  best  of  all  —  ice-cream  and  or- 
anges and  things,  you  know.  Heigh-ho  !  "  he  sighed  ; 
"  I  wish  it  was  over,"  forgetting  his  part  suddenly  ; 
but  the  sigh  was  lost  upon  Katey,  who  bent  forward 
with  clasped  hands  and  upturned,  glowing  face,  pictur- 
ing it  out  in  her  mind,  herself  too  insignificant  a  part 
of  the  bright  vision  to  disturb  her  fancy.  She  drew  a 
long,  trembling  breath.  "  I  am  sure  I  shall  like  it," 
she  said  softly,  returning  to  her  book,  from  which, 
however,  she  soon  emerged  again.  "  Will  Dacre  Home 
be  there?" 


16  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  I  suppose  so,"  Jack  answered,  rather  gruffly.  He 
was  deep  in  his  lessons  again  by  this  time,  and  did 
not  care  to  be  disturbed. 

"  He's  an  awful  boy,"  whispered  the  child,  solemnly. 

"  That's  so ; "  and  Jack  allowed  his  thoughts  to 
wander  again  from  the  page  before  him.  "  Do  you 
know,"  he  went  on  in  a  burst  of  confidence,  "  I  be- 
lieve he'll  be  hung  yet." 

Katey's  eyes  opened  round  and  horrified  at  the 
scene  conjured  up  by  his  prophecy. 

"  Then  they'd  bring  home  his  head,"  she  added  after 
a  moment. 

"  Bring  home  his  head  ?  "  repeated  Jack. 

"  Yes  ;  I  read  somewhere  about  Sir  Thomas  More  ; 
how  they  brought  home  his  head  to  his  family.  I 
think,"  she  added  circumstantially,  "  that  it  was  tied 
up  in  a  napkin." 

"  He  wasn't  hung  at  all,"  said  Jack,  from  the  depth 
of  superior  wisdom  ;  "  he  was  beheaded." 

"  0  !  "  Katey  replied  humbly.  From  Jack's  final 
judgments  she  never  appealed. 

Jack  was  true  to  his  promise,  and  carried  the  little 
shoe  to  be  mended  the  next  morning  before  breakfast. 
When  he  ran  up  the  street  after  school  at  night, 
swinging  it  triumphantly  by  the  string,  a  tiny  figure, 
wrapped  in  a  queer,  old-fashioned  cloak,  waited  for 
him  between  the  heavy  gate  and  one  of  the  high  posts 
surmounted  by  great  black  wooden  balls.  Dusky 
shadows  were  softening  the  staring  red  walls  all 
around.  Ghostly  figures  hastened  down  the  street 
where  the  gas-lights  were  beginning  to  glimmer 
faintly.  A  cart,  mysteriously  full,  had  creaked  over 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  17 

the  snow-covered  pavements,  and  paused  before  the 
brilliantly-illuminated  house  across  the  way.  Heavily- 
laden  baskets  were  being  lifted  out  and  carried  in, 
from  which,  to  Katey's  mind,  the  wonderful  party  was 
to  be  evolved.  It  was  very  cold  out  there  in  the 
wide  crack  between  the  gate  and  the  post ;  but  a 
warm  thrill  shot  through  the  little  body  as  the  lights 
flamed  out  into  the  street,  bringing  one  sudden,  evanes- 
cent glimpse  of  glory  before  the  shades  were  drawn. 

"  It  is  still  damp,  and  a  good  deal  drawn  in  on  one 
side,"  said  Jack,  displaying  the  little  shoe,  which 
looked  as  though  a  bite  had  been  taken  out  of  it; 
"  but  you  won't  care." 

Care  ?  The  little  wet,  half- worn  shoe  shone  like 
Cinderella's  slipper  in  Katey's  eyes,  as  the  great  gate 
closed  after  them  with  a  dull  thud,  and  they  hastened 
into  the  house. 

"  Come  in  ;  let  me  see  if  you  are  quite  nice,"  called 
Madam  Earle,  an  hour  later,  as  she  stood  framed  in  the 
parlor  door,  while  the  children  descended  the  stairs, 
a  kind  of  halo  about  their  young  heads  cast  by  the 
candle  carried  in  black  Chloe's  hand. 

Delphine  danced  forward  into  the  fire-light,  and 
gave  a  sweeping  courtesy.  The  folds  of  the  old  green 
pongee  —  scant  and  not  over  bright  —  fluttered  out  as 
she  bent  to  the  floor.  But  against  the  dead  green  of 
her  gown,  her  neck  and  arms  shone  pure  white,  and 
the  merry  brown  eyes,  raised  to  her  mother's  face, 
held  a  charm  beyond  pearls  and  diamonds.  She 
thrust  out  her  foot  ruefully.  It  was  encased  in  one 
of  the  fantastic  slippers.  A  shadow  crossed  Madam 
Earle's  face.  She  felt  more  keenly  than  they  each 
2 


18  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

thorn  which  poverty  made  to  pierce  the  pride  of  her 
children. 

"  But  I  don't  mind/'  Delphine  said  brightly.  "  I 
would  sooner  dance  in  my  bare  feet  than  sit  in  a 
corner  in  satin  slippers."  But  Delphine  would  never 
sit  in  a  corner ;  of  that  her  mother  was  sure. 

Then  Katey  crept  out  of  the  shadows,  and  stood 
timidly  awaiting  inspection. 

"  0  Katey,"  laughed  Delphine,  "  I  can  see  nothing 
but  your  eyes  and  the  great  flowers  on  your  gown  ! " 

"  Are  they  so  very  large  ?  "  and  Katey  looked  anx- 
iously down  upon  the  old-fashioned  brocade  in  which 
she  was  arrayed.  It  was  covered  with  impossible 
roses,  and  had  come  down  in  various  shapes  and  styles 
from  a  former  generation,  having  been  made  over  at 
last  for  Delphine  in  a  fashion  quite  gone  by,  since 
which  time  it  had  descended  to  Katey. 

"  Are  they  so  very  large  ?  "  she  repeated,  as  a  mo- 
ment of  silence  followed  her  question. 

"  Well,  no,"  burst  out  Jack ;  "  if  you  call  them 
sunflowers,  kitten,  they  are  small." 

Katey's  eyes  had  turned  imploringly  to  him.  She 
gave  a  quick  little  gasp  of  pain,  which  he  did  not  no- 
tice. Her  mother's  arm  drew  her  forward. 

"  It  is  a  very  handsome  piece  of  silk,"  she  said, 
stroking  it  with  her  hand.  "  I  have  heard  my  mother 
say  that  when  this  gown  was  brought  from  England 
there  was  not  another  in  the  colony  that  could  com- 
pare with  it.  It  would  almost  stand  alone." 

"  But  it  will  never  stand  quite  alone,"  laughed  Del- 
phine, to  whom  this  consolation  had  been  adminis- 
tered many  times.  "  Unfortunately,  some  one  of  us 
will  always  have  to  stand  in  it." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  19 

"  Never  mind,"  whispered  Jack  in  Katey's  ear,  as 
the  heavy  gate  swung  after  them,  and  they  emerged 
into  the  street ;  "  nobody  will  notice  you,  and  you  look 
nice  enough,  any  way  ;  not  handsom,e,  of  course,  like 
Delphine." 

"  0,  no,"  assented  Katey,  who  was  quite  content  to 
be  thus  estimated,  and  began  to  be  cheered  even  so 
soon  by  Jack's  equivocal  praise.  The  little  heart  had 
been  full  of  anxiety  a  moment  before  ;  but  if  Jack 
was  satisfied  it  must  be  that  she  was  equal  to  the  oc- 
casion. Jack  would  know  ;  he  had  been  to  parties 
before.  Poor  Jack  !  whose  heart  was  heavy  enough 
on  his  own  account  at  that  very  moment. 

"  Why  do  you  say  so  ?  "  exclaimed  Delphine,  sharply. 
She  had  caught  his  words,  low  though  they  were. 
"  You  know  we  look  as  though  we  had  come  out  of 
the  ark.  But  I  don't  care  ;  "  and  she  ran  up  the  steps. 
Carriages  were  crowding  the  narrow  street ;  white- 
robed  little  forms  were  being  lifted  out  and  borne  in 
tenderly.  A  gentleman  brushed  past  them  as  they 
stood  in  the  doorway ;  he  carried  a  dainty  figure 
in  his  arms.  "  Here,  Pet,  your  flowers,"  as  he  set  her 
down  ;  and  the  little  gloved  hands  received  a  miniature 
bouquet  as  the  door  was  flung  wide  open.  A  soft, 
warm  air,  sweet  with  the  scent  of  flowers,  a  blaze  of 
light,  the  sound  of  music  —  all  poured  out  to  meet 
them.  Katey,  shivering  with  excitement,  overcome 
with  awe,  stood  still.  "  What  are  you  waiting  for  ?  " 
It  was.  Delphine's  voice  which  roused  her.  Delphine's 
hand  pulled  her  forward.  She  found  herself  mounting 
the  stairs,  led  into  a  room  musical  with  the  tinkle  of 
tiny  belles  transformed  beyond  all  recognition  —  her 
schoolmates  though  many  of  them  were. 


20  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Is  this  the  party  ?  "  she  gasped. 

«  Don't  be  silly,"  Delphine  replied.  "  This  is  the 
dressing-room  —  don't  you  see?  Nothing  but  chil- 
dren ! "  she  said  aloud,  as  the  maid,  who  had  been 
fitting  dainty  slippers  to  tiny  feet,  came  to  meet  them. 

"  Yes,  miss,"  the  girl  replied,  obsequiously  ;  every- 
body gave  pretty  Delphine  her  due  of  honor  and 
respect ;  "  but  it  is  early  yet ;  and  indeed  there  are 
some  young  ladies  and  gentlemen  down  stairs." 

"  I  know  it  is  early,"  Delphine  replied  carelessly, 
shaking  out  the  clinging  folds  of  the  green  pongee 
and  drawing  on  her  gloves  ;  "  but  we  are  neighbors." 

Katey,  in  the  mean  time,  had  removed  her  cloak,  not 
without  some  hesitation  and  a  throb  of  terror  as  to 
the  result. 

"  0,  what  a  funny  dress  ! "  exclaimed  a  little  miss 
in  white  lace  and  pink  satin  ribbons,  staring  at  the 
brocade  gown. 

"  Such  flowers  I  Why,  Katey  Earle  !  "  added  a 
school  acquaintance,  slipping  out  of  a  white  opera 
cloak  and  drawing  near. 

"  Jack  says  they  are  not  as  big  as  sunflowers," 
Katey  ventured,  deprecatingly. 

"  Of  course  not,  you  little  goose ; "  and  Delphine 
joined  in  the  laugh  which  followed  the  words. 
"  Come,  it  is  time  to  go  down."  And,  glad  of  any 
change,  Katey  followed  her  with  tingling  cheeks  and 
a  heavy,  anxious  heart. 


/CATHERINE  EARLE.  21 


CHAPTER  II. 

KATEY   FINDS   A   FRIEND. 

JACK  was  waiting  for  them  just  outside  the  dress- 
ing-room door.  He  had  become  all  at  once  very 
stiff,  and  red-faced,  and  queer,  and  not  like  Jack  at  all. 
His  hands  seerned  to  have  swollen,  and  protruded, 
very  red  and  more  freckled  than  ever,  to  an  unusal 
length  beyond  the  sleeves  of  his  jacket ;  and  why 
did  he  look  so  choked  and  strange  about  the  neck? 
Katey,  grown  suddenly  observant  through  painful 
experience,  gave  him  a  quick,  searching  glance  from 
head  to  foot,  mentally  comparing  him  with  the  fine 
young  gentlemen  gathered  at  the  head  of  the  stairs. 
There  was  a  difference,  but  in  what  it  lay  she  could 
not  tell ;  certainly  boys'  clothes  were  all  alike,  just 
jackets  and  trousers,  she  thought,  enviously.  But 
boys'  clothes  are  not  all  alike,  as  poor  Jack  had  found, 
to  his  sorrow,  in  that  long  ten  minutes  of  waiting,  the 
torments  of  which  Katey  fortunately  did  not  know. 
She  dreAv  in  a  deep  breath  of  comfort ;  she  could  bear 
the  flaming  brocade  even,  which  refused  to  stand 
alone,  if  she  were  quite  sure  that  Jack  was  not  hurt. 

"  I'll  find  you  a  seat  somewhere,"  said  Delphine, 
when  they  had  crossed  the  room  and  presented  them- 
selves to  the  little  hostess,  who  received  her  guests 
with  the  assurance  of  years  in  society.  A  hush,  then 


22  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

a  low  titter,  had  followed  them.  Jack's  face  flamed, 
and  the  hands  hanging  awkwardly  at  his  side  clinched 
themselves  for  an  instant.  Delphine  raised  her  head 
proudly,  but  her  face  grew  white ;  only  Katoy,  be- 
wildered by  the  bright  scene,  heard  nothing. 

"  There  !  "  and  Delphino  tucked  the  child  into  a  cor- 
ner ;  "  you  can  sit  here  until  they  begin  to  play,"  which 
Katey  was  only  too  glad  to  do.  The  first  moment  of 
confusion  and  bewilderment  was  past,  and  the  room 
seemed  suddenly  full  of  strange,  unfriendly  eyes 
searching  her  out.  She  shrank  as  far  from  sight  as 
possible.  Jack  lingered  awkwardly  beside  her  for  a 
few  moments ;  then  the  crowd  swallowed  him  up. 
Delphine,  too,  disappeared  ;  but,  secure  in  her  corner, 
Katey  for  the  time  was  happy,  in  that  pitiful,  unnatu- 
ral happiness  for  a  child  —  the  being  permitted  to  look 
on  while  others  play. 

They  were  forming  a  contra-dance  in  the  next  room. 
One  of  the  young  ladies  belonging  to  the  house,  busily 
pairing  off  the  little  people,  paused  before  Katey  at 
last.  "  Will  you  have  a  partner,  little  girl  ?  " 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  stammered  Katey.  She  did 
not  understand  the  question ;  but  this  might  be  one 
of  the  games  of  which  Jack  had  told  her. 

"  Can  you  dance  ? "  The  girl  spoke  impatiently. 
What  a  stupid,  little  old-fashioned  child  it  was,  to  be 
sure  ! 

"I  don't  know,"  Katey  answered  with  grave  con- 
sideration ;  "  I  never  tried." 

The  girl  stared,  laughed,  and  went  on. 

"  I  almost  think  I  could,"  the  child  continued  to  her- 
self, leaning  out  from  her  corner  to  watch  the  dancers. 
She  was  growing  accustomed  to  the  scene,  and  now 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  23 

a  desire  to  participate  in  it  seized  upon  her.  With  a 
glowing,  eager  face  and  shining  eyes  she  followed  the 
strange  movements,  while  the  music,  rising  and  fall- 
ing, beat  its  own  time  in  her  heart.  There  was  a 
little  stir,  and  the  crowd  about  her  pressed  back ;  the 
green  pongee  fluttered  before  her  eyes,  as  Delphine, 
flushed  and  radiant,  chases  down  the  room.  Her 
hands  were  crossed  in  those  of  an  old-young  man, 
with  a  bald  spot  on  the  top  of  his  head,  and  a  murmur 
of  admiration  followed  the  twinkle  of  the  bespangled 
slippers.  Katey's  glance  was  full  of  breathless  de- 
light ;  she  gloried  in  Delphine's  beauty  ;  she  shared 
her  triumph.  In  her  eagerness  she  did  not  notice  the 
approach  of  a  set  of  young  fops  of  her  own  age  who 
had  been  watching  her  for  some  time  from  across  the 
room.  A  sudden  pinch,  causing  her  to  utter  a  half- 
suppressed  cry  as  she  grasped  her  arm,  called  them 
first  to  her  notice. 

"  Hello,  granny  !  "  She  looked  up,  her  eyes  full  of 
the  tears  the  pain  had  brought,  to  find  a  face  made 
horrible  by  contortions,  close  to  her  own.  Dacre 
Home,  upon  the  edge  of  the  group,  laughed  a  cruel, 
mocking  laugh.  "  0,  come  on,"  he  said,  superciliously  ; 
"  don't  torment  the  child."  There  was  a  spark  of  feel- 
ing somewhere  in  the  boy  which  had  been  touched 
by  the  child's  tears. 

"  Jimminy,  what  shoes ! "  exclaimed  another,  as 
they  moved  away.  The  little  foot  had  been  thrust 
out  in  her  excitement,  displaying  the  marks  of  old 
Crinkle's  skill  to  all  beholders.  A  sob  rose  in  her 
throat  as  she  hastily  drew  it  under  her  gown.  The 
pain  in  her  arm  stung  her  still ;  but  it  was  nothing  to 
the  pain  that  cruel  taunt  had  awakened  in  her  heart. 


24  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

0,  where  was  Jack !  If  he  would  only  take  her  home  ! 
Why  did  she  ever  come  ?  The  glamour  was  all  gone. 
It  was  not  fairydom  any  longer,  as,  shrinking  back  out 
of  sight,  she  wiped  her  eyes  stealthily. 

Delphine  sought  her  out  at  last.  "  What,  still  here  1 
Why  don't  you  go  and  play  with  the  others  ?  " 

The  child  had  choked  back  her  tears  at  Delphine's 
approach.  A  sensitive  pride  made  her  hide  her  bitter 
experience.  Jack  was  somewhere  happy.  Delphine, 
too,  flamed  upon  her  like  a  star ;  it  was  only  herself 
who  was  miserable ;  nobody  should  know ;  she  could 
bear  it  for  a  little  time ;  they  would  go  home  pres- 
ently. "  I  would  rather  stay  here,"  she  Baid ;  "  be- 
sides, I  can  see  everything." 

"  Well,  you  are  the  oddest  little  thing,"  Delphine 
replied.  To  her,  seeing  was  but  a  small  part  of  the 
evening's  pleasure,  and  conscious  of  thus  having  done 
her  duty  in  looking  after  Katey,  she  sailed  away 
again  upon  the  arm  of  the  old-young  man,  —  if  one 
could  be  said  to  sail  under  such  scant  canvas.  But 
even  this  little  exchange  of  words  created  a  diversion, 
and  made  the  child  less  miserable.  Then  by  leaning 
forward  she  discovered  that  she  could  hide  her  shoes 
with  the  skirt  of  her  gown.  This,  too,  was  a  comfort ; 
and  her  heart  grew  more  light.  Then,  when  the 
games  really  began,  and  one  and  another  saw  that  she 
did  not  join  in  them,  tiny  fans  and  lace-edged  hand- 
kerchiefs were  laid  in  her  lap  for  safe-keeping,  caus- 
ing a  friendly  exchange  of  words,  and  giving  her  a 
kind  of  silent  partnership  in  them.  So  her  enjoyment, 
slowly  stealing  back,  reached  its  culmination,  when 
Jack  presently  came  down  the  room,  very  red  and 
swollen  in  appearance  still,  as  though  his  jacket  were 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  25 

much  too  tight  for  him,  but  with  Josie  Durant,  the 
prettiest  little  lady  in  the  room,  hanging  upon  his 
arm.  Nothing  escaped  Katey's  eyes,  from  the  little 
white  feet  shining  through  the  open- worked  stockings 
above  the  satin  slippers,  to  the  yellow  hair  coiffured 
in  the  latest  style  over  the  childish  face. 

"  I  told  your  brother  that  he  ought  to  go  and  find 
you,"  said  the  little  lady,  with  an  authoritative  air, 
which  seemed  to  Katey  very  droll ;  "  and  so,  you  see, 
I've  brought  him."  Jack  reddened  and  laughed,  look- 
ing rather  silly,  but  thoroughly  pleased.  Yes,  Katey 
saw,  and  so  did  all  the  little  lords  and  ladies,  busy 
with  their  game,  regarding  her  with  new  favor ;  for 
did  not  Josie  Durant  wear  real  diamond  earrings  ? 

"  What  does  he  like  to  do  ?  "  the  little  girl  went  on, 
still  coquettishly  ignoring  Jack's  name.  "  He  will  not 
play  anything." 

Jack,  twisting  a  button  upon  his  jacket,  and  blushing 
up  to  his  eyes,  offered  not  a  word  in  his  own  defence. 
"  Let  me  see,"  Katey  pondered  gravely,  seized  with 
a  violent  interest  in  Jack's  favorite  pursuits ;  "  he  likes 
to  slide  down  hill." 

Jack  laughed. 

"  But  you  can't  slide  down  hill  at  parties,"  the  child 
replied. 

"  No,"  assented  Katey. 

"  So  I  don't  know  what  we  shall  do  with  him  ;  "  as 
though  Jack  must  be  immediately  employed,  or,  at 
least,  amused.  "  Please  fasten  my  glove."  Jack's 
red  fingers  resolved  themselves  into  ten  thumbs,  each 
one  more  clumsy  than  the  others. 

"  0,  let  me  do  it ;"  and  Katey  drew  the  button  into 
place. 


26  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  I  haven't  seen  you  before  to-night,"  said  Miss 
Josie,  while  this  operation  was  going  on.  With 
instinctive  politeness,  which  is  only  kindness,  after 
all,  the  little  girl  tried  to  keep  her  eyes  from  the  flow- 
ered gown.  "  Seems  to  me  you  haven't  been  around 
much." 

"  No-o,"  Katey  replied,  slowly,  giving  a  final  pat  to 
the  little  wrist  before  releasing  it,  "  I  haven't,  much." 

She  could  not  mortify  Jack  before  Miss  Josie  by 
confessing  that  she  had  sat  upon  that  blessed  ottoman 
in  the  corner  ever  since  the  party  began.  Instinctive- 
ly she  guarded  the  honor  of  the  family. 

"Well,  we  must  go,"  said  the  kind  little  tyrant, 
presently,  turning  Jack  around.  "  Perhaps  we'll  come 
again.  I  forgot  to  ask  if  you  were  having  a  good 
time,"  she  threw  over  her  shoulder. 

"  Beautiful,"  Katey  responded,  warmly.  There  was 
no  doubt  upon  the  subject  in  her  mind,  as  they  disap- 
peared, the  tiny  gloved  hand  still  resting  upon  the 
sleeve  of  Jack's  outgrown  jacket.  "  And  then  there's 
the  supper,"  thought  the  child,  who  was  weighing  and 
measuring  her  joys  as  only  they  do  to  whom  joys  are 
few  and  rare. 

The  music  startled  the  little  people  in  the  midst  of 
their  game.  It  was  a  march  now,  and  a  long  proces- 
sion began  to  form.  All  the  little  fans  and  handker- 
chiefs were  caught  from  Katey 's  lap,  as  their  owners 
hastened  to  place  themselves  in  the  line.  The  young 
lady  who  had  offered  her  a  partner  for  the  first  dance 
was  arranging  the  little  masters  and  misses  in  couples. 
Katey,  in  her  corner,  was  quite  overlooked.  Perhaps 
Jack  would  come,  she  thought,  anxiously  scanning  the 
jackets  dancing  about  before  her  eyes.  Once  in  the 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  27 

distance  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  green  pongee. 
Delphine  was  a  young  lady,  and  between  her  and 
Katey,  by  reason  of  years,  was  a  great  gulf  fixed ;  but 
Jack  !  —  it  was  not  like  Jack  to  forget.  The  proces- 
sion moved  out  of  the  room.  Katey's  heart  swelled 
with  grief,  which  changed  to  anger  against  the  little 
lady  who  had  satin  slippers,  real  diamond  earrings, 
and  —  Jack.  A  tear  had  fallen  into  her  lap  upon  the 
poor  despised  roses,  where  it  shone  for  a  moment  like 
dew.  But  as  her  anger  rose  the  tears  dried  away. 
"Jack  ought  not  to  do  so,"  she  said  aloud,  in  a 
strange,  excited  tone.  She  was  alone ;  the  last  couple 
had  passed  out ;  the  music  sounded  faint  in  the  dis- 
tance. She  started  up  with  a  sudden  purpose.  "  I'll 
go  home."  She  darted  out  into  the  hall,  at  the  farther 
end  of  which  was  the  supper-room.  Between  the 
parted  forms  gathered  about  the  door  she  caught  a 
momentary  glimpse  of  the  glories  beyond.  Merry, 
shrill  voices  came  out  to  her  with  the  sweet  strains  of 
the  music.  A  confusion  of  bright,  happy  faces,  of 
fairy  forms,  danced  before  her  eyes  —  a  paradise  from 
which  she  was  shut  out ;  and  0,  dreadful  to  see, 
there  was  Jack  —  her  Jack —  with  no  care  or  anx- 
iety upon  his  face,  bashful,  but  triumphant,  with  Josie 
Durant  at  his  side.  He  held  her  plate;  one  of  her 
dainty  gloves  peeped  out  of  his  pocket.  Katey 
marked  it  all,  as  she  stood  for  a  moment  with  parted 
lips,  flushed  cheeks,  and  little  dark  hands  clinched 
tight.  A  pale-faced  boy,  sitting  upon  the  stairs  with 
a  crutch  lying  beside  him,  leaned  over  to  watch  the 
queer  little  figure.  What  could  be  the  matter  with 
the  child,  as,  suddenly  turning,  she  darted  up  the 
stairs,  falling  over  the  crutch  in  her  haste  ! 


28  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  One  moment,  please."  He  caught  at  the  brocade 
gown  to  save  her.  "  I  believe  I  shall  have  to  trouble 
you  for  my  crutch."  It  had  slid  to  the  foot  of  the 
stairs. 

"  0,"  said  Katey,  recovering  herself,  and  diverted 
for  the  moment  from  her  purpose,  "  I  must  have  struck 
it ;  but  you  see  I'm  in  a  hurry,"  as  she  ran  down  to 
recover  it. 

"  Yes,  I  should  think  so."  What  an  odd  little  crea- 
ture it  was,  to  be  sure,  in  the  queer,  old-fashioned 
gown,  and  with  a  mass  of  dark  hair  tossed  by  her  fall 
about  her  face  !  "  But  won't  you  sit  down  a  moment  ? 
It  is  rather  lonely  here  all  by  one's  self." 

Katey  had  given  him  a  hurried  inspection.  He  was 
years  older  than  Jack,  but  not  so  handsome,  though 
his  clothes  were  finer,  and  not  at  all  outgrown.  Poor 
Katey  had  become  observant  in  such  matters.  Then 
he  really  desired  her  to  sit  by  him.  That  was  being 
almost  like  the  other  girls  in  pretty  gowns  down 
stairs  ;  and  her  queer  little  heart  grew  light  again. 
"  I  believe  I  will,"  she  said,  perching  herself  primly 
upon  the  stair  above  him.  "  But  you  should  not  stay 
here,"  she  went  on,  as  visions  of  the  glories  below 
floated  before  her  mind ;  "  you  won't  get  any  supper." 

"  0,  yes,  I  will ;  they  told  me  to  remain  here  out  of 
the  crowd  until  they  sent  one  of  the  waiters  to  me." 

Katey  had  not  the  least  conception  as  to  whom 
"  they  "  referred ;  but  she  had  become  somewhat  em- 
bittered by  her  late  experience,  and  inclined  to  doubt 
everybody.  "  Perhaps  they'll  forget  you,"  she  sug- 
gested, secretly  wiping  away  a  tear  with  the  corner 
of  a  very  large  embroidered  handkerchief. 

"  0,  no ;  they  won't  do  that,  I  am  sure." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  29 

"  I  don't  know,"  persisted  Katey,  sorrowfully,  "  they 
forgot  me.1' 

"  I'm  glad  of  it,"  the  boy  replied.  So  that  was  the 
trouble,  he  thought.  "  I  am  not  really  glad,  of  course, 
and  I  don't  see  how  it  could  have  happened,"  he 
added,  diplomatically  ;  "  but  how  fortunate  for  me  !  I 
should  have  had  to  sit  here  alone." 

Katey  made  no  reply  to  the  words  so  full  of  kindly 
tact.  She  seemed  lost  in  thought.  The  little  hands 
were  clasped  tight  over  the  great  roses  blossoming 
upon  the  diminutive  knees.  The  wide  forehead  under 
the  dark  tangles  which  had  fallen  over  it  was  drawn 
by  two  horizontal  lines  where  the  eyes  came  together 
in  consultation.  "  How  should  you  like,"  she  began 
again,  presently,  "  to  have  your  brother  go  off  with 
another  girl  ?  " 

The  boy  was  rather  abashed  by  the  suddenness, 
not  to  say  the  strangeness,  of  the  proposition.  "  Well," 
he  replied,  slowly,  "  if  she  was  a  very  nice  girl  — 

"  With  real  diamond  earrings,"  interpolated  Katey, 
not  losing  sight  of  the  honor  conferred  upon  the 
family. 

"  Yes,"  assented  the  boy,  gravely.  Katey's  great 
eyes  were  upon  him,  and  he  dared  not  smile  ;  "  and 
open-work  stockings,"  she  continued. 

"Yes,"  he  went  on,  "  and  with  open-work  stock- 
ings, by  all  means ;  a  very  nice  girl,"  he  ventured. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katey,  warming  to  the  subject,  "  not  a 
bit  ashamed  to  speak  to  anybody  in  a  corner." 

"  0,  no,  not  at  all,"  repeated  the  boy.  "  Why,  I 
think  I  should  like  it  very  well." 

"  So  do  I,"  exclaimed  Katey,  now  thoroughly  aroused 
to  the  advantages  of  the  situation,  and  veering  en- 
tirely around.  "  I  think  it  is  beautiful." 


30  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

11  Here  it  is  now  ; "  and  her  new  friend  leaned  down 
to  receive  a  plate  loaded  with  strange  delicacies. 
"  Pomp ! "  he  called  after  the  waiter,  who  was  an 
awful  personage  in  Katey's  eyes,  "  another  plate,  and 
sharp,  now." 

He  piled  the  lion's  share  into  her  lap,  until  the  child 
laughed  aloud  in  her  delight.  It  was  not  for  the 
cakes  and  candies;  she  was  too  happy  to  eat;  but  it 
was  so  delightful  to  be  waited  upon ;  to  be  almost  like 
the  little  girls  down  stairs  !  "  Jack  said  the  Bupper 
would  be  best  of  all;  and  —  there  he  is  now!"  as 
a  boy  suddenly  appeared,  darting  in  and  out  of  the 
parlors,  and  thrusting  his  head  into  the  corners,  as 
though  searching  for  some  one.  "  Jack  !  "  she  called, 
nearly  overturning  her  plate  as  she  started  from  her 
seat. 

"  What  are  you  doing  up  there  ?  "  Jack  responded, 
rather  crossly,  as,  heated  and  breathless,  he  discov- 
ered her  at  last.  "  0,"  in  a  milder  tone,  as  he  caught 
sight  of  her  companion,  "  I  thought  you  were  alone." 

"  No,"  replied  Katey,  "  I  am  not  alone  at  all.  There 
is  a  very  nice  boy  here  ;  'most  as  nice  as  you,  but  not  so 
handsome,"  she  added,  in  a  whisper,  speaking  through 
the  stair  rails. 

The  very  nice  boy  laughed,  and  appeared  a  little 
embarrassed  by  this  frank  speech,  which  somewhat 
mollified  Jack.  "I'll  take  care  of  your  sister,"  he 
said ;  "  you  can  find  her  here  after  supper." 

"  Yes,"  added  Katey,  sitting  down  again  to  her  nuts 
and  raisins.  "  You  can  go  back,  Jack  ;  I  don't  care 
anything  at  all  about  it  now."  What  it  was  about 
which  Katey  had  ceased  to  care,  Jack  did  not  pause 
to  inquire,  but,  thus  relieved  from  all  responsibility, 
hastened  away  again. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  31 

An  hour  later,  when,  hooded  and  cloaked,  the  chil- 
dren trooped  down  the  stairs  to  go  home,  in  the  mo- 
ment of  waiting  Katey  found  herself  once  more  by  the 
side  of  her  new  acquaintance.  He  stood  leaning  upon 
his  crutch,  looking  pale  and  tired.  "  You'd  better  go 
and  sit  down,"  she  said,  in  a  motherly  tone,  which 
greatly  amused  the  boy. 

"  I  must  stand  sometimes  for  a  change,"  he  replied ; 
"  you  see  I  can't  run  about  as  you  do." 

"  I  don't  care  to  run  about,"  said  Katey,  with  an  ill- 
defined  attempt  at  consolation.  "  Still,"  she  added, 
with  grave  truthfulness,  "  I  suppose  I  should  care  to 
if  I  couldn't.  Then  Delphine's  hand  drew  her  away. 

"  Why  did  you  do  so  ?  "  Katey  said,  when  the  door 
had  closed  after  them,  and  they  were  out  in  the  dark, 
still  night.  "  Why  did  you  pull  me  away  ?  I  wanted 
to  say  good-night  to  him," 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  Delphine  asked,  in  reply ;  for  Del- 
phine,  with  all  her  gayety,  had  a  high  regard  for  the 
proprieties,  and  looked  with  distrust  upon  this  sudden 
friendliness. 

"  I  don't  know ;  but  he  is  a  very  nice  boy." 

"But  what  is -his  name?"  persisted  Delphine. 
"  Of  course  some  one  introduced  you." 

"  No,  they  didn't ;  but  he  is  a  very  nice  boy." 

"  Boy  !  "  repeated  Delphine  ;  "  he  is  as  old  as  I,  and 
I  should  not  have  thought,  Katey,  that  you  would  be 
so  familiar  with  a  stranger." 

Poor  Katey,  darting  before  the  others  in  sudden 
anger,  feeling  dimly  that  the  reproof  was  unjust,  an- 
swered only  with  a  little  burst  of  sobs,  as  she  ran  up 
the  steps  of  the  ghostly  old  house.  But  the  tears 
soon  dried  away ;  it  was  only  a  patter  of  great  drops 


32  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

after  that  little  hot  flash.  It  had  been  a  beautiful  time, 
after  all,  she  thought,  creeping  up  the  wide  stairs  in 
the  darkness  to  where  Chloe  sat  over  the  fire  in  Del- 
phine's  room,  half  asleep,  waiting  to  undress  them. 

"  Dere  warn't  nuffin  so  fine  as  dis  yere,  I'll  be 
boun',"  she  said,  fumbling  with  dusky  fingers  over  the 
fastenings  of  the  brocade  gown,  as  the  fire-light  made 
all  the  roses  bloom  again. 

"  There  was  certainly  nothing  at  all  like  it,"  laughed 
Delphine,  shaking  down  her  long,  rippling  hair. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  33 


CHAPTER  III. 

HAPPY    DAYS. 

AMONG  the  most  vivid  recollections  in  after  years 
of  Katey's  early  life  were  those  associated  with 
the  great  brick  school-house  at  the  West  End,  where 
so  many  hours  of  each  endless  day  were  passed  — 
the  paved  yard  in  which  the  girls,  old  and  young, 
walked  solemnly  at  recess  under  the  eye  of  the  moni- 
tor ;  the  long,  dimly-lighted  alley  at  one  side  of  the 
gate,  where  they  promenaded  in  stormy  weather, 
whispering  "  secrets  "  which  might  have  been  shouted 
upon  the  house-top;  the  wide  plank  walk  over  the 
way,  upon  the  side  street,  worn  into  grooves  by 
little  feet,  where  games  which  possibly  still  rule 
and  reign  among  little  folks  were  played  at  noon  time. 
The  great  trees  in  the  hospital  yard  leaned  over  and 
stretched  out  their  arms  here  to  the  passers,  bestowing 
a  benediction  and  blessing  of  pleasant  shade  upon  the 
children.  Thick  with  leaves  were  the  branches  and 
white  with  dust  in  the  summer  time.  Do  other  chil- 
dren play  there  now  ? 

Beyond  were  the  great  gates  giving  entrance  to  the 
hospital  grounds,  wiuh  the  porter's  lodge,  like  a  sen- 
try-box just  inside.  Katey  used  to  dart  past  it,  half 
fearful  of  recall,  on  Saturday  afternoons,  when  she  had 
permission  to  come  here  and  spend  an  hour  or  two 
3 


34  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

with  her  old  nurse,  Elsie  Bird,  who  had  charge  now  of 
the  queer,  round  laundry-house,  with  its  odd,  steamy 
odors,  and  many  delightful  mysteries.  Upon  a  bit  of 
carpet  laid  over  the  brick  floor  where  she  stood  before 
the  table  encircling  the  ironing-room,  Elsie  was  always 
found,  surrounded  by  her  satellites  —  pleasant-faced 
Irish  girls,  who  never  failed  to  have  a  word  of  welcome 
for  the  child.  A  tall,  gaunt  woman,  of  muscular  build, 
was  Elsie,  but  with  voice  and  ways  strangely  shy  and 
gentle.  She  made  these  visits  high  holidays  to  Katey. 
A  tiny  polishing  iron  and  long  rolls  of  linen  bandages 
always  awaited  the  child,  who  played  at  ironing ;  and 
when  these  failed  to  amuse,  her  hand  held  fast  in 
Elsie's,  she  strayed  through  the  long,  bewildering  cor- 
ridors, up  the  wide  stairs,  and  into  the  strange  stillness 
of  the  regions  where  the  sick,  and  sore,  and  hurt  lay 
in  their  white  beds.  Never  like  human  creatures  did 
these  sufferers  appear  to  her.  Mysterious  beings  they 
were,  unlike  any  who  walked  the  streets  outside,  with 
their  great  glassy  eyes  following  her  as  she  passed  fear- 
fully over  the  bare  floor.  Sometimes  they  paused  in 
the  dissecting-room,  where  the  vacant  seats  rose  to  the 
ceiling,  and  in  the  midst  of  which  was  the  table  where 
the  sufferers  lay  down  to  be  healed  by  the  knife.  The 
nurses,  meeting  Elsie,  would  recount  some  fearful  tale 
of  disease,  or  pain,  or  death ;  Katey,  horror-stricken 
but  fascinated,  listening  the  while.  Or,  to  please 
her,  as  they  thought,  they  showed  the  skeleton  in  his 
case,  —  a  ghastly  sight,  which  haunted  her  afterwards 
at  night, —  and  the  shrivelled,  blackened  mumm}r, 
with  the  scarab  which  had  been  worshipped  thousands 
of  years  before  fastened  to  its  nose.  Are  they  there 
still? 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  35 

One  afternoon,  as  she  bent  over  her  ironing-table 
improvised  from  a  chair,  she  was  conscious  of  a  sudden 
hush  throughout  the  queer  high  room.  Looking  up 
from  her  little  round- edged  iron,  she  saw  a  group  of 
gentlemen  just  within  the  door.  The  pleasant-faced 
superintendent  often  came  here.  Katey  had  seen  him 
many  times.  He  beckoned  to  her  now,  as  Elsie  left  her 
work,  and  the  girls,  struck  with  strange  awe,  made  con- 
tinual obeisance,  bowing  to  the  floor,  yet  not  for  him. 
"  This  is  Father  Mathew,"  said  he,  kindly,  as  the  child 
with  her  little  hot,  red  face  stood  before  him,  the  roll 
of  linen  tangled  about  her  feet.  She  noticed  then  that 
some  of  the  party  wore  long,  straight  coats,  like  that  of 
the  old  priest  who  went  up  and  down  Poplar  Street 
sometimes  ;  and  at  these  words,  one,  in  advance  of  the 
others,  who  had  been  speaking  to  Elsie,  took  her  little 
hand,  still  hot  from  the  iron,  in  his,  with  a  murmur  of 
kind  words.  Long  afterwards  she  remembered  the 
hand-clasp  and  the  gentle  tones  of  his  voice,  when  all 
recollection  of  the  face  or  figure  of  the  Irish  reformer 
had  faded  from  her  mind. 

Then  what  delight  it  was,  when  the  day  drew  near 
its  end,  still  clinging  to  Elsie's  gown,  to  follow  her  to 
the  low  room  where  the  supper  table  was  spread  out, 
with  great  stone  pitchers  of  milk,  and  high,  neatly  ar- 
ranged piles  of  brown  and  white  bread ;  and  last  of  all, 
to  gather  with  the  household  in  the  great  wainscoted 
hall  for  prayers.  The  summer  twilight  stole  in  at  the 
open  windows  with  the  rustle  of  the  leaves  outside. 
The  noise  of  the  city  had  died  away  to  a  murmur 
pleasant  to  the  ear.  Katey,  kneeling  upon  the  bare 
floor,  saw  the  white  faces  of  the  sick,  who  had  crept 
down,  glorified  by  the  last  rays  of  the  sun ;  and  taking 


36  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

in  none  of  the  rolling  words  of  the  prayer,  had  yet  an 
awful  consciousness  that  God  canie  very  near. 

The  afternoon  following  the  party  the  girls  trooped 
out  at  the  door  of  the  high  brick  school-house,  the  con- 
strained voices  breaking  into  call  and  shout  as  the 
final  bounds  were  passed  and  they  separated  to  go  their 
several  ways.  Katey,  in  a  little  red  hood,  and  an  old 
brown  sack,  rather  pinched  about  the  arms,  but  of  a 
material  which  had  been  fine  in  its  day,  came  slowly 
up  the  street  among  the  last  with  Josie  Durant.  Her 
progress  was  somewhat  impeded  by  the  very  large 
overshoes  upon  her  feet,  which  had  belonged  originally 
to  Delphmc,  and  would  yawn  at  the  sides  as  though 
they  laughed  at  every  step  she  made,  to  say  nothing 
of  catching  at  the  toes  against  projections  so  far  be- 
yond the  little  feet  as  to  be  out  of  all  calculation. 

There  was  a  row  of  English-basement  houses,  com- 
fortable and  even  handsome,  along  the  street,  in  the 
front  window  of  each  of  which,  shining  with  silver  and 
glass,  a  tea  table  was  set  out.  It  was  a  daily  source 
of  enjoyment  to  Katey  to  speculate  upon  the  delicacies 
which  would  doubtless  appear  when  the  shades  were 
drawn,  the  gas  lighted,  and  the  families  assembled. 
Though  not  alone,  she  did  not  forget  it  now.  "  Mince 
pie  and  ice-cream,  —  yes,  and  jujube-paste  ;  "  she  was 
settling  this  rather  unwholesome  bill  of  fare  in  her 
mind  when  some  one  ran  hastily  by  and  up  the  high 
stone  steps  to  the  house.  It  was  little  Annie  Conway, 
whoso  seat  was  across  the  aisle  from  her  own  at 
school. 

"Is  that  you,  Katey  Earle?  I'm  going  up  to  the 
Common  to  coast.  Why  don't  you  go  ?  " 

The  wind  blew  an.  icy  blast  down  the  street ;  the 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  37 

bank  of  cloud  behind  the  hospital  was  already  flaming 
red  in  the  sunset.  "  I  don't  know,"  Katey  replied, 
slowly ;  "  I  believe  I'll  ask  mother.  You'll  come,  too, 
Josie  ?  " 

But  the  little  lady  was  undecided.  "  There'll  be  a 
crowd  of  boys,"  uttering  the  word  boys  as  though  it 
had  been  mosquitos,  or  any  other  swarming  plague. 

"  But  wo  might  find  Jack.  He  would  take  care  of 
us." 

"  Who  is  Jack  ?  "  queried  the  little  girl,  swinging 
from  the  door-knob  above  them. 

"  Don't  you  know  Jack  ? "  exclaimed  Katey,  too 
much  astonished  at  her  benighted  condition  to  attempt 
an  explanation. 

"  He's  Katey's  brother,"  said  Josie,  while  a  soft  lit- 
tle blush,  the  shade  of  the  pretty  pink  hood  upon  her 
head,  stole  into  her  cheeks. 

"  0,"  the  little  girl  replied,  carelessly  ;  adding,  with 
the  unpleasant  frankness  of  childhood,  "  it's  that 
freckled  boy." 

"No,  it  isn't,"  denied  Katey,  planting  Delphine's 
overshoes  like  a  battery  before  the  steps,  prepared  for 
a  siege  of  any  length  in  Jack's  behalf. 

"  Come,  Katey,"  whispered  Josie,  persuasively,  pull- 
ing at  her  sleeve  as  the  child  shouted  back,  "  'Tis  too  ; 
I  saw  him  last  night  at  the  party  ;  and  he's  awful  bash- 
ful." 

This  was  altogether  too  much  to  bear  without  com- 
mencing hostilities.  Before  the  words  fairly  reached 
her,  Katey  had  seized  a  handful  of  snow  and  discharged 
it  at  the  child.  But  as  she  aimed  with  the  accuracy 
peculiar  to  the  sex  even  in  a  youthful  stage,  it  only 
flew  a  short  distance  in  the  air  above  her,  to  descend, 


38  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

like  curses,  in  a  shower  upon  her  own  head,  as  the 
door  closed  hastily  after  the  retreating  little  figure. 

"  Don't  mind  it,"  sai'd  Josie,  in  a  conciliatory  tone, 
which,  however,  only  exasperated  Katey.  "  She  didn't 
mean  anything ;  and  then  you  know  your  brother  is 
—  that  is,  he  has  —  " 

Katey  faced  her  with  a  terrible  countenance,  in 
which  surprise  and  pain  waged  a  warfare  with  indig- 
nation. "  You've  took  sides  with  her  !  "  she  gasped, 
her  grammar  flying  to  the  winds.  "  I'll  just  go  home 
and  tell  Jack  !  " 

"  You  can  if  you  wish  to,"  returned  Josie,  her  face 
growing  white.  "  But  I  didn't  think  you  were  such  a 
girl  as  that;  and — and  I  haven't  taken  sides  at  all." 
The  color  had  returned  to  her  face,  but  there  was  a 
sob  in  her  throat  as  she  walked  on  alone. 

Poor  Katey,  whose  fitful  moods  were  no  less  sur- 
prising to  herself  than  to  others,  shuffled  along  the 
street  very  sorry  and  penitent,  the  anger  having  died 
down  in  her  heart  as  quickly  as  it  rose.  And  what 
would  Jack  say  ?  An  awful  burden  of  remorse  fell 
upon  her  with  that  thought. 

They  had  turned  the  corner,  and  were  approaching 
the  old  brick  church,  where  their  ways  separated. 
Katey  moved  the  overshoes  at  a  quicker  pace  until  she 
gained  Josie's  side.  "  Are  —  are  you  going  up  to  the 
Common  ?  "  she  ventured,  in  a  very  weak  voice. 

"  I  don't  suppose  you  want  me  to  go,"  Josie  replied, 
staring  straight  before  her,  the  tears  still  wet  on  her 
cheeks. 

Katey  saw  her  advantage.  There  is  nothing  like 
taking  high  ground  and  assuming  to  be  the  injured 
party  in  a  quarrel.  "  Now  if  you  are  cross  just  because 
I  said  that  —  "  she  began. 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  39 

"  I  am  not  cross."  The  tables  were  suddenly  turned, 
as  little  Miss  Josie  found  to  her  bewilderment. 

"  Aren't  you  !  "  Katey  exclaimed  in  a  happy  voice. 
A  great  load  was  lifted  from  her.  "  Then  I'll  run  home 
and  ask  mother."  Her  heart  was  much  lighter  than 
her  feet  as  she  started  off  down  the  street  upon  a 
shuffling  run. 

"  Katey  ! "  called  Josie ;  and  when  she  returned, 
"  You're  not  going  to  tell  Jack?  " 

"  0,  no,  indeed  ;  "  as  though  such  a  thought  had  never 
entered  her  mind.  "  Besides,  it  might  hurt  his  feel- 
ings," she  added  in  a  low  tone,  confidentially,  "  for 
you  know  he  is  awful  freckled." 

Half  an  hour  later  they  moved  slowly  up  the  long 
walk  of  the  Common.  Night  was  beginning  to  steal 
over  the  city.  Lights  shone  in  the  windows  along  the 
street,  and  twinkled  among  the  trees  in  the  distance 
like  blinking  eyes.  A  keen  north  wind  rattled  the 
frozen  branches  overhead,  sending  more  than  one 
shower  of  icicles  upon  the  little  heads.  "  I  wish  we 
hadn't  come,"  sighed  Katey.  "'I  don't  see  where  Jack 
can  be.  —  There  he  is  now,  I  believe,"  as  a  sturdy 
little  figure,  very  much  muffled  up  about  the  ears,  and 
dragging  a  sled  after  him,  came  down  one  of  the  cross 
paths  from  the  long  slide  where  the  coasters  flew  over 
the  hill  like  black  balls  in  the  twilight. 

"  Holloa  —  what  are  you  here  for  ? "  was  Jack's 
rather  discouraging  greeting,  as  he  caught  sight  of 
the  little  red  hood.  < 

"  We  wanted  to  slide,"  Katey  replied,  humbly ; 
then  she  stepped  forward,  revealing  Josie,  who  was 
staring  with  a  very  prim,  absorbed  air  at  the  lamp- 
post close  by. 


40  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  0 ! "  and  Jack  removed  the  lion's  skin  at  once, 
and  became  awkward  and  meek  as  a  lamb. 

"  It's  too  late  to  slide,  but  I  might  draw  one  of  you 
home/7  he  suggested,  bashfully. 

There  was  a  momentary  dispute  between  the  little 
girls.  "You."  "No,  you."  But  at  last  Josie's  bright- 
colored  skirts  were  tucked  about  the  little  feet  upon 
the  old  sled,  and  the  small  procession  started  home- 
ward. They  were  passing  one  of  the  crowded  en- 
trances to  the  Common,  on  their  way  up  the  hill,  when 
Katey  darted  away,  dropping  one  of  the  overshoes  in 
her  haste.  She  had  espied  a  tall  boy  leaning  upon  a 
crutch,  and  recognized  in  him  her  friend  of  the  night 
before.  But  when  she  stood,  an  odd  little  figure,  just 
before  him,  seized  with  shyness,  she  had  not  a  Avord 
to  say. 

"  Why,  how  do  you  do  ? "  exclaimed  the  boy,  cor- 
dially. 

"  0, 1  am  well,"  replied  Katey,  who  recognized  no 
spiritual  significance  in  the  greeting,  but  a  literal 
desire  to  know  of  her  health.  "  Here  is  Jack,  and 
her,"  she  added,  in  a  loud  whisper,  as  Jack  and  Josie 
came  up. 

"  Her  ?  "  repeated  the  boy,  inquiringly.  "  0,  yes ; 
the  very  nice  little  girl.  I  understand." 

"  What  do  you  mean,  Katey  Earle, "  exclaimed 
Jack,  "  by  running  off  in  that  way  ?  "  Poor  Jack  had 
recovered  the  overshoe  with  some  difficulty,  and  was 
rather  cross  and  breathless  with  his  efforts  in  over- 
taking its  owner. 

"  I  don't  mean  anything,"  Katey  replied,  simply. 
"  I  only  came  here  to  see  this  boy." 

The  boy  smiled  and  touched  his  cap  to  Miss  Josie, 


KATHERINE    EARLE,  41 

who  made  a  prim  little  bow  from  her  temporary 
throne.  "  I  saw  you  last  evening,  I  think." 

"  0,  yes,"  said  Jack.  "  You're  the  fellow  who  was 
sitting  on  the  stairs.  I  should  think  it  would  be 
awful  dull —  "  he  went  on,  fixing  his  eyes  upon  the 
crutch ;  then  he  stopped.  But  the  boy  took  up  his 
words.  "  It  is  dull  enough,"  he  said  ;  "  but  I  hope  it 
is  only  for  a  little  while.  I  fell  on  the  ice  a  month 
ago,  and  have  been  laid  up  ever  since.  I  am  just 
getting  about  again." 

"  0  !  "  said  Katey,  immensely  relieved,  and  yet  upon 
second  thought  rather  disappointed  that  her  hero 
should  be  much  like  other  boys,  after  all.  "Then 
you  don't  mean  to  go  on  crutches  always  ?  " 

"  I  don't  mean  to,  certainly,"  replied  the  boy,  who 
seemed  a  little  embarrassed  by  all  this  conversation 
about  himself.  "  Are  you  having  a  pleasant  time  ?  " 
he  asked  Katey,  suddenly ;  "  I  have  been  watching 
the  coasters." 

"  0,  yes,"  replied  Katey,  whose  little  face  was  quite 
blue,  and  who  stood  with  the  unprotected  foot  deep 
in  the  snow ;  "  beautiful !  " 

"  But  where  is  your  sled  ?  " 

"  I  use  Jack's ;  that  is,  when  he'll  let  me,"  she  add- 
ed, with  a  truthfulness  which  did  not  tend  to  con- 
ciliate Jack. 

The  boy  seemed  to  consider  a  moment,  as  they  stood 
just  within  the  iron  posts,  pushed  and  jostled  by  the 
passers  hurrying  in  and  out. 

Jack  moved  impatiently.     "  Come,  Katey." 

"  I'm  going  home  now,"  said  her  friend ;  "  perhaps 
you  will  let  me  walk  up  Park  Street  with  you ;  I  live 
there."  And  he  pointed  to  the  block  of  houses  just 


42  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

beyond  the  church.  They  moved  on,  Katey  trying  to 
accommodate  her  short  steps  to  the  uneven  ones  by 
her  side.  "  I  thought  I  should  see  you  again,"  said 
the  boy.  "  Sometimes  you  are  sure  of  things,  you 
know,  even  when  you  can't  tell  why." 

Katey  made  no  reply.  She  did  not  understand  at 
all  what  he  was  saying ;  she  was  watching  the  queer 
little  shadows  dancing  upon  the  snow  under  the  gas- 
light, her  ears  full  of  the  sound  of  tinkling  bells. 
"  But  when  I  say  good  night  now,''  he  added,  "  I  can't 
feel  sure  again,  because  I  am  going  away." 

"  But  you'll  come  back  again  ;  people  always  come 
back."  This  had  been  Katey's  experience. 

"  0,  yes,  some  time,  perhaps.  But  here  we  are  now. 
Wait  a  moment,"  he  added,  hurriedly  ;  "  or  come  in." 

"  0,  no,"  Katey  replied,  moving  back,  yet  gazing  in 
at  the  open  door,  with  its  revelation  of  bright  light, 
soft  colors,  and  of  an  airy,  beautiful  figure  with  out- 
spread wings,  in  a  niche  above  the  stairs,  ready,  it 
seemed  to  the  child,  to  float  down  upon  them. 

"  Do  come  in  a  moment." 

"  No,"  Katey  replied,  coming  back  to  realities ; 
"  mother  does  not  allow  us  to  go  into  people's  houses 
without  knowing  who  they  are." 

"  That's  polite,"  whispered  Jack.  But  fortunately 
the  boy  had  disappeared  at  the  first  word. 

"  What  can  he  want  us  to  wait  for  ?  "  interposed 
Josic,  anxious  for  peace. 

"  Perhaps  he  is  going  to  bring  us  some  ice-cream," 
suggested  Katey,  whose  imagination  knew  no  bounds. 

"  I  hope  not,"  laughed  Josie,  wrapping  her  be- 
numbed little  hands  in  her  cloak. 

But  before  Katey  had  time  for  any  further  sugges- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  43 

tions,  her  friend  appeared  with  a  handsome  sled  in  his 
arms.  Jack's  in  its  brightest  days  could  never  have 
been  like  this. 

"  I  want  to  give  it  to  you,"  he  said  to  Katey.  "  I 
shall  never  use  it  again ;  besides,  I  am  going  away." 
He  spoke  in  haste,  as  though  she  might  interrupt  him ; 
but  she  only  stared,  standing  motionless,  the  dark 
eyes  opened  to  their  fullest  extent. 

Jack  pulled  her  sleeve.  "  Why  don't  you  say 
something  ?  " 

"  0,  my  !  "  gasped  Katey,  thus  reminded  of  pro- 
prieties. 

"  Why  don't  you  thank  him  ? "  and  again  Jack 
caught  her  sleeve. 

"  Jack,"  Katey  exclaimed,  finding  her  voice  at 
last,  "  she  never  will  let  me  take  it,  I  know.  Don't 
you  remember  the  turtle  ?  " 

Then  followed  some  whispered  reminiscences,  which 
the  boy  pretended  not  to  notice. 

"  You  see,"  Katey  said,  turning  to  him  after  a  mo- 
ment, "  you  might  get  well,  and  want  it  yourself." 

"  I  am  too  old  to  use  it  now." 

"  But  you  might  sell  it,"  suggested  the  child,  who 
had  lived  in  the  midst  of  the  strictest  calculations  as 
to  ways  and  means.  "I  should  think,"  she  added, 
with  grave  deliberation,  dropping  her  head  upon  one 
side,  as  she  had  seen  Chloe  do,  "  I  should  think  you 
might  get  as  much  as  twenty-five  cents  for  it." 

Jack  laughed  outright ;  but  her  friend  answered  in 
all  seriousness,  "  I  don't  care  to  sell  it.  I  have  made 
up  my  mind  to  give  it  away  —  perhaps  to  a  little  girl 
I  know  who  has  two  already,"  he  added,  carelessly. 

"  0,  no  !  " 


44  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

The  boy  smiled,  deepening  the  light  in  the  gray 
eyes  hid  under  a  rather  heavy  brow.  "  Then  perhaps 
you  will  take  it." 

Katey  looked  at  Jack,  who  was  her  moral  thermom- 
eter. "  Mother  won't  care,"  he  said  ;  "  I'll  tell  her  all 
about  it," 

"  Will  you  ?  0,  you  are  the  goodest  Jack  !  "  ex- 
claimed the  child,  in  a  burst  of  gratitude  and  delight. 
"  You  see,"  she  explained  to  the  boy,  "  mother  never 
allows  us  to  take  anything  from  people  we  don't  —  " 
know  anything  about,  she  was  going  to  say ;  but  here 
Jack  gave  the  little  sleeve  a  twitch,  abruptly  ending 
the  sentence. 

"  What  are  you  pulling  me  for,  Jack  ? "  she  said, 
gravely ;  "  you  know  it  is  so." 

But  Jack  had  uttered  a  brief  "  good  night,"  and 
was  already  moving  down  the  street.  Katey  took  the 
sled  in  her  arms.  "  I  suppose  I  shan't  see  you  again," 
said  the  boy,  as  she  deposited  it  upon  the  snow,  and 
arranged  the  rope  to  her  satisfaction.  "  I  shall  be  off 
so  soon  now." 

"  Will  you  ?  Well,  good  by  ! "  and  Katey  turned 
back  to  offer  him  one  of  the  little  cold  hands ;  "  you 
must  take  care  of  yourself,"  she  added,  primly.  It 
was  always  her  mother's  parting  injunction,  and 
seemed  to  the  child  particularly  appropriate  now. 

"  I'll  try  to,  certainly,"  replied  her  friend,  laughing, 
as  the  queer  little  figure  ran  off  down  the  street, 
disappearing  at  last  in  the  darkness. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  45 


CHAPTER   IV. 

THE   BEGINNING   OF   THE  END. 

THIS  winter,  of  which  we  recount  such  trivial 
events,  was  a  memorable  one  in  Boston.  The 
fugitive  slave  law  had  just  been  passed,  shaking  the 
city  —  as  well  as  the  whole  nation  —  to  its  founda- 
tions. A  few  fearless  men  dared  to  denounce  the  act. 
They  were  hissed  and  hooted  at  in  the  street ;  they 
were  threatened  with  fire  and  sword ;  they  were 
assailed  in  their  own  houses,  and  barely  escaped  with 
their  lives.  From  a  refuge,  Boston  became  a  covert, 
where  frightened  creatures  hid  in  trembling  inse- 
curity. Then  came  the  day  when  one  was  unearthed  I 
was  seized,  and  chained,  and  marched  down  through 
the  streets  in  the  centre  of  a  squad  of  police,  headed 
and  followed  by  the  militia. 

Hot  excitement,  bursting  out  at  times,  smouldered 
throughout  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  quiet  city. 
Men  and  women  looked  on.with  flaming  eyes  and 
white  lips.  Even  the  children,  who  are  but  convex 
mirrors  reflecting  their  elders  in  miniature,  took  it  up. 
The  line  which  always  divides  human  interests  and 
sympathies  and  warm  hearts  strengthened  into  a 
chain  in  those  days  —  broken  a  dozen  years  later ;  but 
0,  the  breaking  ! 

Katey  listened  one  day  with  clinched   hands  and 


46  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

bated  breath  to  the  story  as  told  by  a  little  curly- 
headed  girl  to  a  group  of  awe-struck  children  huddled 
together  outside  the  gate  at  the  close  of  school — of 
how  her  father  was  one  of  the  Lancers  called  out  to 
guard  this  human  chattel  on  its  way  back  to  slavery ; 
how,  like  a  man,  he  rebelled  in  his  heart,  and  said  he 
would  not  go  ;  and  how  —  like  a  man,  too,  alas  !  —  he 
arrayed  himself  at  last  in  the  gay  uniform,  walked  out 
of  the  house  in  his  clanking  spurs,  mounted  his  horse, 
and  rode  away  with  the  rest.  Katey  despised  him 
in  her  heart  at  that  moment.  Perhaps,  years  after, 
looking  back,  —  if  she  remembered,  —  she  saw  that 
more  than  one  man  hesitated  and  yielded  at  that  time 
and  later,  not  from  cowardice,  but  from  an  honest 
query  in  his  mind,  in  rendering  up  his  dues,  as  to 
which  wero  Cassar's  and  which  God's.  We  see  through 
different  eyes. 

"  He  had  to  go,"  said  the  child,  closing  her  story. 

"  Why  did  he  have  to  ?  "  dare£  Katey. 

"  You  don't  know  anything  about  it,  Katey  Earle." 
The  child  felt  that  a  party  had  risen  against  her, 
though  only  one  had  spoken  aloud.  "  When  you  be- 
long to  things  you  have  to  go." 

A  hush  followed  these  convincing  words.  Katey's 
flashing  eyes,  staring  at  the  narrator,  only  burned  with 
a  fiercer  fire.  "  Td  stopjbdonging,"  she  said,  pushing 
her  way  out  of  the  group,  and  flying  off  down  the 
street,  the  rain  and  the  hot  tears  wet  on  her  face. 

When  she  entered  the  house,  she  found,  besides  her 
mother  and  Delphine,  a  visitor  who  had  never  ven- 
tured into  the  parlor  before.  It  was  an  old  colored 
woman,  known  as  "  Mammy,"  who  for  many  years  had 
been  a  pensioner  upon  Madam  Earle's  slender  bounty  ; 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  47 

for,  though  so  reduced  in  circumstances,  the  family 
had  not  jet  denied  itself  the  luxury  of  charity. 

Mammy  had  been  a  slave,  in  her  younger  days,  upon 
a  Virginia  plantation ;  but  that  was  at  a  time  so  far 
distant  as  to  seem  almost  a  dream. 

"  How  old  are  you,  Mammy?"  Delphine  had  asked 
once. 

"  I  don'no,  missy,"  was  the  reply.  "  But  my  Jake 
wor  ten  year,  when  ole  mar'sr  say  he's  gwine  up  ter 
town  for  t'  see  Mar'sr  Washington  made  president." 

"And  did  you  go?" 

"  0,  no,  chile ;  "  and  Mammy  shook  her  head  sadly. 
"  De  gran'  folks  went,  wi7  de  hosses  an'  de  'kerriges. 
We  on'y  blacked  de  boots  what  went." 

Whether  she  had  ever  purchased  her  freedom,  or 
had  ever,  indeed,  except  by  possession,  won  a  lawful 
right  to  herself,  no  one  knew.  Certainly  she  seemed 
to  feel  no  fear  now,  when  others  trembled.  Her 
husband  had  died  in  slavery.  The  only  son  left  to 
her  from  a  large  family  had  escaped  to  the  North,  and 
afterwards  purchased  his  freedom  and  that  of  his 
family.  But  the  bleak  New  England  climate  had 
swept  away  one  after  another,  the  father  himself  at 
last,  leaving  only  one  grandchild  to  Mammy.  This 
girl  had  married  a  runaway  slave  from  Georgia,  an 
idle,  improvident  fellow,  who,  as  years  went  on  and  a 
dusky  family  gathered  about  him,  succeeded  only  in 
keeping  a  roof  over  their  heads,  —  and  a  leaky  one  at 
that,  —  by  putting  forth  what  were  to  him  superhuman 
exertions.  He  sawed  wood  occasionally  —  so  occasion- 
ally that  wood-sawing  could  hardly  be  termed  his  pro- 
fession ;  he  went  upon  errands,  but  at  such  a  pace  that 
the  most  hopeful  heart  despaired  of  their  accomplish- 


48  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

merit ;  and  he  cleared  the  sidewalks  in  winter  before 
two  or  three  houses,  where  he  was  borne  with  for  the 
sake  of  poor  old  Mammy,  upon  whom  really  devolved 
the  support  of  the  helpless  family.  Accumulated  mis- 
fortunes, which  fall  regardless  of  color,  —  among  which 
lazy  Ben  reckoned  his  growing  family  and  the  "  sca'ce- 
ness  "  of  work,  —  had  brought  sickness  to  his  wife  — 
that  fatal  New  England  malady  which  seems  the  very 
grinding  of  the  eternal  mills,  so  slow  it  is,  but  so  ex- 
ceeding sure  in  its  result. 

In  summer's  heat  or  winter's  cold,  then,  Mammy 
travelled  from  house  to  house  among  her  patrons,  sure 
of  a  welcome  and  something  to  keep  the  wolf  from 
their  shaky  door,  to  fill  the  hungry  mouths  and  cover 
the  little  dusky  backs  which  were  hung  over  the 
rickety  fence  in  the  summer  sunshine  or  shivered 
about  the  broken  stove  in  winter.  She  was  a  marked 
figure ;  unusually  tall,  exceeding  the  stature  of  most 
men,  and  extremely  aged  though  she  was,  straight  as 
a  grenadier.  Her  dress,  neat  as  scant,  was  always  of 
some  dingy  black  material,  and  sufficiently  short  to 
display  the  men's  boots  in  which  her  feet  were  en- 
cased, years  though  it  was  before  the  introduction  of 
short  dresses  into  polite  society.  Bound  about  her 
head  was  a  plaid  cotton  handkerchief  in  the  form  of  a 
turban,  and  perched  upon  the  apex  of  this,  a  diminu- 
tive Quaker  bonnet,  tilted  at  an  angle  which  no  Quaker 
bonnet  before  or  since  ever  attempted,  but  which  was 
after  a  time  exchanged  in  winter  for  a  warm  black 
hood,  over  the  construction  of  which  Katey's  fingers 
shed  tears  of  blood. 

She  dragged  after  her  always  a  little  wooden  cart, 
such  as  children  use  in  play.  It  had  more  than  its 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  49 

duo  proportion  of  rattle,  and  thereby  effectually  an- 
nounced her  approach.  A  certain  regularity  marked 
the  time  of  her  visits :  which  might  have  been  com- 
puted, not  directly,  but  as  sure  to  follow  other  events 
—  much,  in  fact,  as  one  reckons  the  approach  of 
Lent,  only  that  in  Mammy's  case  Ben's  variations, 
rather  than  the  moon's,  were  to  be  taken  into  consider- 
ation ;  and  however  it  might  have  been  at  other 
houses,  a  cordial  welcome  and  a  cup  of  tea  always 
awaited  her  at  Madam  Earle's,  with  a  chair  close  by 
the  kitchen  fire. 

She  never  begged.  Why  should  she  ?  Her  friends 
knew  her  sore  need.  But  she  received  the  parcel  of 
clothes  or  food,  or  both,  made  up  in  anticipation  of  her 
coming,  with  fervent  thanks  and  blessings  —  blessings 
upon  the  donor,  but  thanks  only  to  the  Lord,  who  held 
the  fullness  of  the  earth  in  his  hand,  and  from  whom 
came  every  gift.  Indeed,  his  name  was  seldom  absent 
from  her  lips,  and  it  seemed  almost  as  though  her  poor 
body  had  been  forgotten  here,  while  her  spirit  had 
taken  up  its  abode  already  in  heavenly  habitations. 

Her  manners  were  quaint,  and  belonged  to  a  past 
generation.  She  rapped  at  the  door,  then  entered 
without  waiting  for  a  response,  advancing  in  a  series 
of  exceedingly  low  courtesies  or  dips  executed  with 
the  utmost  rigidity  —  partly,  no  doubt,  from  old- 
fashioned  precision,  and  quite  as  much,  perhaps,  from 
the  rheumatism,  with  which  she  was  afflicted.  This 
salutation,  performed  as  it  was  with  all  the  solemnity 
of  a  religious  observance  and  in  the  extremely  short 
gown,  excited  Delphine's  scarcely  concealed  smiles ; 
but  to  Katey,  who  gazed  upon  it  from  a  safe  distance, 
it  brought  only  delightful  visions  of  that  old  Virginia 
4 


50  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

home  of  which  Mammy  spoke  sometimes  —  of  the  gay 
gallants  and  beautiful  ladies  from  whom  these  obsolete 
"  manners  "  had  been  copied.  And  when,  upon  going 
away,  she  worked  herself  out  of  the  room  by  a  series 
of  backward  courtesies  still  more  surprising,  it  was 
like  nothing  less  than  a  presentation  at  court !  Still, 
the  grave  doubt  as  to  results  which  necessarily  at- 
tend all  backward  movements,  marred  the  full  enjoy- 
ment of  this  scene,  and  the  child  always  experienced 
a  sensation  of  relief  when  the  door  closed  at  last  upon 
the  tall  form. 

As  Katey  crept  into  the  warm,  bright  room,  dazzled 
by  the  light  after  the  darkness  outside,  this  strange 
figure  rose  from  where  it  had  been  sitting  upon  the 
edge  of  one  of  the  high-backed  chairs,  and  dropped  a 
couple  of  respectful  courtesies  in  silence. 

"  This  is  bad,  very  bad,"  Madam  Earle  was  saying. 
"  You  think,  then,  they  are  looking  for  him  ?  " 

The  little  red  hands  stretched  out  before  the  fire 
fell  into  Katey's  lap  as  she  turned  to  listen. 

"  Yes,  missis ;  Ben  seen  his  ole  mars' r  for  shore  dis 
mornin' ;  "  and  Mammy  polished  with  an  old  colored 
handkerchief  one  dusky  cheek,  upon  which  a  tear  had 
fallen. 

"  Where  is  Ben  ?  " 

"  I  don'no  ;  but  he'll  be  aroun'  home  soon,  I  s'pect. 
De  Lor'  hab  mercy  on  his  'flicted  people  !  "  she  added, 
with  a  groan,  swaying  her  body  back  and  forth  as 
though  in  pain. 

"  What  is  he  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  don'no,  missis,  I  don'no.  0  Lor',  mighty  ter  sabe, 
come  down  an'  help  dis  yere  poor  chile ! "  she  mut- 
tered, still  swaying  upon  her  chair. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  .        51 

"  Of  course  he  will  try  to  hide,"  Madam  Earlo 
went  on. 

"  Whar'U  he  hide  ?  "  returned  Mammy.  "  De  very 
groun'  gib  up  de  dead,  deso  days." 

"  Or  slip  away  and  escape  to  Canada,"  pursued 
Madam  Earle,  thoughtfully. 

Mammy  ceased  to  wipe  her  eyes.  "  Pears  like  he 
might  try ;  "  then  despair  seized  upon  her.  "  But  -  - 
0  Lor' !  Phar'oh's  hos'  follow  close  behin'." 

Delphine,  from  her  corner,  had  been  listening  breath- 
lessly to  this  conversation.  She  started  up  now,  hot 
and  angry.  "  I  wish  I  were  a  man !  " 

"  Hush,  Delphine,"  said  her  mother,  in  a  low  voice. 

But  Mammy  had  caught  the  words.  She  paused  in 
her  wailing.  "  Wha'  for  you  wish  you  wor  a  man  for, 
missy?"  Her  figure  stretched  itself  suddenly  up- 
right ;  the  old  black  hood  fell  from  her  head ;  she 
raised  her  long,  skinny  finger.  "  Hark  !  hear  de  swif 
feet  dat  run ;  hear  de  bayin'  ob  the  houn's ;  hear  de 
wailin'  ob  de  women ;  hear  de  chil'n  cry ;  dat  ar's 
man's  work,  missy." 

"  0  mother,  mother  !  can't  you  do  anything  ?  "  sobbed 
Delphine,  while  Katey  sat  white  and  speechless,  shiv- 
ering with  excitement. 

Was  it  chance  made  the  mother  at  that  moment 
raise  her  eyes  to  the  portrait  hanging  in  its  tarnished 
frame  over  the  fireplace  ?  It  was  the  portrait  of  her 
grandfather,  who  had  been  a  mighty  man  in  the  colo- 
nies before  they  rebelled.  Later,  he  sacrificed  friends, 
property,  and  almost  life  itself,  in  the  cause  of  his  king. 
He  went  down  to  his  grave,  at  last,  poor,  despised, 
covered  with  obloquy,  for  having  maintained,  through 
evil  as  well  as  good  report,  his  fidelity  to  the  powers 


52  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

which  he  honestly  believed  should  govern  the  land. 
There  was  something  in  the  stern,  straight-forward 
glance  of  the  eyes  from  under  the  overhanging  brows 
of  the  old  Tory,  something  in  the  squareness  of  the 
lower  part  of  the  face,  which  had  come  down  to  and 
set  their  mark  upon  the  softer  countenance  of  the 
woman.  She  turned  to  Delphine. 

"  My  dear,"  she  said,  "  the  law  may  often  seem  un- 
just ;  it  may  entail  sorrow  and  suffering  upon  the  few : 
but  it  is  for  the  many,  and  it  must  be  maintained. 
We  are  forbidden  to  harbor  or  assist  the  fugitives ; 
but  we  can  help  Mammy.  We  can  do  no  more."  She 
drew  Delphine  down  and  kissed  her.  "  Now  run 
away  to  bed,  you  and  Katey.  I  must  see  what  can  be 
done." 

But  this  did  not  satisfy  warm-hearted,  impulsive 
Delphine.  She  caught  Mammy's  two  hands  in  her 
own  as  the  tall  figure  rose  from  its  seat.  "  0,  if  I  only 
could  do  something ! "  she  said.  Shiftless  Ben  had 
suddenly  become  an  object  worthy  of  any  sacrifice. 

"  Bress  ye,  bress  ye,  chile,"  Mammy  responded  ;  but 
her  tears  fell.  Her  heart  had  grown  heavy  under 
Madam  Earle 's  words.  Katey  stole  out  of  the  room 
with  a  shy  little  bow  in  response  to  Mammy's  dejected 
courtesy.  She  was  pondering  all  this  in  her  heart. 

There  was  a  deep  silence  for  a  few  moments  after 
their  departure,  broken  only  by  Mammy's  ejaculations 
under  her  breath.  Then  Madam  Earle  spoke.  "  It 
must  be  very  hard  for  you  now  that  Ben  can  do 
nothing.  What  are  you  most  in  need  of?  " 

"  Delibberance,"  groaned  Mammy.  "  Delibberance 
from  dis  yere  wicked  woiT  ! " 

Madam  Earle  made  no  response  to  this  reply  ;   she 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  53 

only  leaned  thoughtfully  upon  her  hand  for  a  moment, 
then,  bending  forward,  pulled  the  faded  bell-cord  hang- 
ing by  the  fireplace. 

The  door  opened,  and  Chloe's  dusky  face  appeared. 
"  Go  to  the  attic,  Chloe,  and  bring  me  that  old  camlet 
cloak  you  will  find  hanging  there."  Chloe  disap- 
peared. "  You  have  not  come  to  me  for  advice, 
Mammy,"  Madam  Earle  went  on,  when  the  door  had 
closed  after  the  girl.  "  You  know,  of  course,  that  Ben 
must  get  away  as  soon  as  possible  —  this  very  night 
if  he  can." 

"  I  done  come  for  nuffin,  missis,"  returned  Mammy, 
who  was  entirely  disheartened  in  her  attempt  to  se- 
cure human  aid.  "  I  done  come  for  nuffin,  an'  I 
'spects  I'm  not  gwine  to  be  dis'pinted.  0  Lor' !  "  she 
murmured,  "  soften  de  hard  hearts  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  it,"  for  Chloe  had  entered  the  room 
again,  bearing  the  cloak  on  her  arm.  "  Now  cut  some 
slices  of  bread  and  the  ham  which  was  left  from  dinner 
as  quickly  as  possible,  and  don't  be  sparing  of  either. 
Wrap  them  in  a  stout  paper,  and  bring  them  to  me." 

She  crossed  the  room  to  the  old  mahogany  escritoire 
in  one  corner,  and,  opening  it,  took  out  a  roll  of  bank 
bills.  It  was  by  no  means  large,  and  she  uttered  a 
sigh  as  she  turned  it  over,  carefully  selecting  one. 
Then  drawing  a  chair,  she  took  up  a  pen,  hesitating  a 
moment  before  beginning  to  write,  and  smiling  to  her- 
self when  the  pen  ran  swiftly  over  the  paper.  "  There, 
Mammy,"  she  said,  as  she  put  the  money  into  the  old 
woman's  hands.  "  I  cannot  give  you  more  now,  and 
the  cloak  is  faded,  I  know,  but  it  is  warm,  and,  worn 
well  about  the  face,  would  hide  one's  countenance." 

"  Bress  ye,  honey,"  responded  Mammy,  but  without 


54  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

emotion.  It  was  not  for  money  nor  clothes  she  had 
come,  and  she  failed  to  catch  the  significance  of  Madam 
Earle's  last  words.  "  Tank  de  Lor'  for  his  gifts,"  she 
added,  piously. 

"  And  I  have  written  a  note,"  Madam  Earle  went 
on,  an  odd  smile  upon  her  face.  "  I  want  Ben  to  de- 
liver it  for  me,  and  to-night  if  he  can."  Still  she 
smiled  strangely.  "  Wait ;  I  will  read  it."  She  opened 
the  paper  upon  which  she  had  just  written  a  few  lines, 
and  read, — 

" '  Will  Jason  Miles  please  send  the  apples  engaged 
of  him  without  further  delay  ? 

And  oblige 

MAESYLVIA  EARLE.' 

You  know  Jason  Miles  ?  " 

But  Mammy,  holding  the  old  cloak  across  her  knees 
rocked  slowly  back  and  forth,  shaking  her  head.  What 
were  Jason  Miles  and  his  apples  to  her  at  such  a  time 
as  this  ?  She  was  disappointed  and  grieved.  She  had 
asked  for  bread,  and  received  a  stone. 

But  still  Madam  Earle  persisted :  "  You  must  know 
him,  Mammy  j  he  is  the  good  old  Quaker  out  upon  the 
Dorchester  turnpike  who  is  said  to  have  helped  so 
many  slaves  on  to  Canada." 

Mammy  fell  in  a  grotesque  heap  at  her  feet  as  the 
light  broke  upon  her  at  last.  "  0  Lor',"  she  prayed, 
laughing  and  crying  in  a  breath,  "  how  I'se  doubted 
ye  !  how  I'se  said  wha'  for  de  chariot  so  long  a  comin' 
for  ?  —  when  it's  jes'  here,  jes'  here  dis  minit.  0  Lor' ! 
Look  at  dat  now ;  not  let  de  lef  han'  know  what  de 
right  han'  doin' ; "  and  she  chuckled  and  laughed, 
upon  her  knees  though  she  was.  "  Bress  dis  ere 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  55 

chile,  and  make  her  to  shine  like  de  stars  in  glory.  0 
Lor'—  But  Madam  Earle  checked  her,  as  Chloe's 
step  was  heard  approaching.  She  assisted  her  to  her 
feet,  and,  finally,  with  her  own  hands,  let  her  out  at  the 
door,  not  daring  to  trust  her  to  Chloe,  whose  zeal  in  the 
cause  would  have  more  than  equalled  her  discretion. 
Mammy  continued  to  utter  her  prayer,  however,  and 
to  call  down  blessings  upon  the  family,  as  she  passed 
through  the  hall,  in  a  series  of  wonderful  courtesies 
extending  even  to  the  front  gate. 


56  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  V. 

KATEY  ACTS  THE  PART  OF  A  DELIVERER. 

KATEY  awoke  the  next  morning  with  a  weight 
upon  her  spirits.  Something  had  happened. 
What  was  it?  Gradually,  as  the  light  struggled  in 
between  the  heavy,  half- closed  shutters,  the  scene  of 
the  evening  before  returned  to  her  mind.  Where  was 
Ben  ?  Had  they  found  him  ?  Had  they  caught  him  ? 
She  sprang  out  of  bed,  and  began  to  dress  hurriedly  ; 
but  soon  her  excitement  and  anxiety  died  away.  She 
had  reasoned  it  out  in  her  odd  little  mind.  Things 
happened,  dreadful  things  ;  but  always  to  people  ever 
so  far  off,  whom  one  did  not  know.  Nothing  could 
have  .harmed  Ben.  He  was  a  part  of  the  prosaic 
every- day  life  which  held  no  elements  of  tragedy. 
So  ah1  her  fears  faded  away,  and  happier  thoughts  took 
their  place.  She  would  hasten  down  and  try  the  new 
sled,  about  which  she  had  as  yet  found  no  opportunity 
to  speak  to  her  mother.  Jack  had  descended  half  an 
hour  before,  sounding  a  reveille  upon  her  door  as  he 
passed.  The  winter  sun  had  not  yet  dispelled  the 
shadows  which  filled  the  dim  old  hall  and  dusky  stair- 
way as  she  ran  after  him.  Chloe's  ringing  voice,  with 
its  odd  intonation,  came  from  some  distant  region  in  a 
wailing  song :  — 

' '  I  earn'  stay  behin',  O  Lor' : 
I  earn'  stay  behin'." 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  57 

Katey  had  heard  it  often  before,  and  the  words  fol- 
lowed the  chant  through  her  head  as  she  tied  on  the 
little  red  hood  and  ran  out  at  the  door,  shutting  it 
heavily  after  her.  Jack  should  be  just  outside.  But 
she  peered  into  the  darkness  in  vain.  Slowly  the 
chill,  heavy  shadows  were  lifting  as  she  went  on  up 
the  street.  She  turned  the  corner,  and  the  grim  form 
of  the  old  brick  church  rose  like  a  huge  misshapen 
figure  before  her,  every  angle  and  recess  filled  with 
mysterious  darkness.  Suddenly,  close  down  at  its  base, 
where  the  sharp  walls  jutted  out,  the  shadows  ap- 
peared to  move  —  to  gather  themselves  into  a  figure. 
Katey  stood  still  and  gazed  at  it  fearfully.  The 
houses  the  length  of  the  street  were  silent  and  dark, 
the  street  lamps  still  burned,  but  with  a  faint  yellow 
light.  Away  in  the  distance  the  old  city  awoke,  and 
turned  itself  with  a  sleepy  sigh.  But  here  no  sound 
broke  the  stillness,  not  even  a  passing  foot  awoke  the 
echoes.  While  she  stared,  undecided  whether  to  fly 
past  and  go  on  in  pursuit  of  Jack,  or  retrace  her  steps, 
a  crouching  figure  shambled  out  of  the  darkness,  and 
approached  her.  It  was  wrapped  in  an  old  cloak,  and 
turned  its  head  from  side  to  side,  as  if  to  listen,  as  it 
drew  near. 

"  0  Lor',  Missy  Kate,  dat  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  Ben  !  "  ejaculated  Katey,  her  heart  giving 
a  great  leap,  and  almost  escaping  from  her  parted  lips. 
So  it  was  true,  after  all,  and  the  dreadful  things  which 
happened  to  people  a  long  way  off,  had  for  once  really 
come  near. 

"  Yes,  missy  ;  dat  me,  for  shore,"  Ben  replied,  in  a 
tone  which  seemed  to  imply  that  he  wished  it  had 
been  almost  any  one  else  at  this  moment. 


58  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  0,  why  don't  you  run,  then,"  cried  Katey,  all  her 
fears  awakened  for  the  sorry  figure  before  her. 

"  Whar'  ever '11  I  run  to,  missy,  now,  in  de  day- 
light?" whined  Ben.  And  even  as  he  spoke  the 
darkness  seemed  to  vanish  from  around  them.  Katey 
could  distinguish  forms  far  down  the  street,  and,  to 
her  terror,  steps  drew  near.  "  0  Lor',  Missy  Kate  ! 
what'll  I  do  ?  Don'  le'  um  gi'  me ;  "  and  shaking  with 
terror,  Ben  retreated  to  his  hiding-place  again.  The 
steps  drew  near  and  passed  by.  It  was  only  some 
laborer,  with  shovel  and  pick  over  his  shoulder,  who 
did  not  heed  the  child  with  a  white,  frightened  face, 
standing,  with  skirts  outspread,  in  an  odd,  fantastic 
attitude,  before  the  angle  of  the  wall. 

"  But  why  didn't  you  go  when  it  was  dark  ? " 
Katey  asked,  hurriedly,  when  she  dared  breathe 
again. 

"  'Cos  I  didn't  know  nuffin'  'bout  de  note,  nor  de 
perwisions  nor  nuffin',  till  mos'  mornin',  when  I  shied 
roun'  to  de  house.  'Twor  too  late  den,  ye  know." 
In  his  usual  luckless,  shiftless  way  he  had  let  the 
golden  moment  slip  by. 

"  What  note  ?  "     His  words  were  a  maze  to  Katey. 

"  Why,  de  note  yer  Maum  Earlo  gib  Mammy  las' 
night." 

Truthfulness  had  never  been  one  of  Ben's  char- 
acteristics, and  the  child  disbelieved  the  whole  story. 
Her  mother  had  sent  him  no  note,  she  was  sure,  and 
something  like  contempt  arose  in  her  mind,  almost 
overcoming  the  pity  she  had  felt  for  him. 

"  I  wor  gwine  down  dar  now  to  tell  yer  maum." 

"  0,  but,  Ben,  she  won't  help  you."  Katey  forgot 
everything  again  in  his  danger.  "  You  must  go  home  ; 
don't  stay  here.  See  how  light  it  is  now/' 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  59 

"  I  earn'  go  home,  missy  ;  "  and  Ben  leaned  against 
the  iron  railing  with  a  kind  of  dull  resolution.  "  Ole 
mars'r  down  dere  dis  minute,  mos'  like  ;  an'  de  pleece- 
men  !  Golly  !  Missy  Kate,  de  pleecemen  jus'  standin' 
round  dat  ar  street,  tree  deep,  I  s'pose."  Frightened 
as  he  was,  Ben  could  not  let  the  opportunity  to  dwell 
upon  his  suddenly  acquired  value  pass  unnoticed. 

The  faint  grayness  which  still  lingered  in  the  at- 
mosphere was  fast  melting  away.  Already  the  light 
had  pierced  Ben's  corner,  revealing  a  figure  the 
strangeness  of  which  would  attract  the  attention  of 
the  first  passer.  Something  must  be  done,  and  at 
once.  To  leave  Ben  to  accomplish  his  own  deliver- 
ance did  not  occur  to  the  child.  Certain  schemes  of 
the  night  before  suggested  themselves  to  her  mind. 
"  Come  home  with  me,"  she  said ;  "  I'll  hide  you. 
Only  when  it  is  dark  again  you  must  go  away." 

"  Yes,  missy,"  Ben  replied,  meekly.  He  had  not  the 
faintest  conception  of  what  the  child  proposed  to  do  ; 
nor  did  it  occur  to  him  to  inquire.  It  was  enough 
that  some  one  had  assumed  the  responsibility  of  caring 
for  him. 

Katey  started  off  down  the  street  upon  a  run,  Ben 
shuffling  more  slowly  after  her.  One  ambitious  milk- 
wagon  awoke  the  echoes  of  the  street  as  she  neared 
the  great  gate.  Dacre  Home  lounged  down  the  steps 
over  the  way,  touching  his  cap  half-mockingly  as  the 
cTiild  darted  into  the  yard,  and  waited  breathlessly  for 
Ben  to  come  up.  She  glanced  fearfully  towards  the 
parlor  windows  ;  but  the  curtains  were  still  drawn. 
She  had  not  realized  how  her  flying  feet  had  out- 
stripped Ben's  slower  movements.  Would  he  never 
come  ?  And  now,  while  she  waited,  the  momentary 


60  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

excitement  under  which  she  had  offered  to  assist  him 
died  away,  and  her  heart  grew  heavy  with  forebod- 
ings. She  knew  fall  well  the  penalty  for  harboring 
a  fugitive.  The  children  playing  in  the  street  had 
talked  of  it ;  a  thousand  dollars  fine,  and  imprison- 
ment for  not  less  than  a  year.  A  thousand  dollars  ! 
She  could  never  hope  to  pay  that ;  so  she  would  suffer 
longer  in  prison,  doubtless ;  and  a  strange  chill  crept 
over  her  with  the  thought.  Down  upon  a  narrow, 
crooked  street,  not  far  away,  which  the  children  gained 
by  darting  through  a  dark  alley  of  fearful  repute,  stood 
an  old  jail,  gray  and  grim  —  a  terror  and  a  fascination. 
Katey  shuddered  at  the  recollection  of  the  grated 
windows.  Clinging  to  those  dreadful  bars,  should 
she  stare  out  upon  the  street  some  day  ?  For  a  mo- 
ment she  wavered.  Ben  had  crept  in  after  her,  and 
stood  waiting,  shrinking  back  against  the  high,  black 
fence.  She  had  weighed  him  with  the  instinct  of 
childhood,  and  found  him  wanting.  Only  this  moment 
she  believed  he  had  deceived  her,  and  yet  she  could 
not  turn  him  away.  "Wait  a  minute,"  she  said, 
swallowing  a  little  sobbing  sigh  with  which  she  put 
down  the  last  of  the  temptations  which  rose  within 
her  to  leave  Ben  to  his  fate.  She  stole  softly  up  the 
high  steps,  and  opened  the  heavy  door  carefully,  then 
paused  to  listen.  The  house  was  still,  save  for 
Chloe's  wild  chant.  The  song  had  changed :  — 

"  He  bore  our  sins  upon  de  tree." 

The  voice  rose  and  died  away ;  but  it  had  awakened 
an  echo  in  the  child's  heart.  The  significance  of  the 
words  did  not  enter  her  head,  but  the  little  heart  was 
lightened  as  she  stepped  back  and  beckoned  to  Ben. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  61 

Not  a  word  did  she  speak  as  he  removed  his  shoes, 
and,  taking  them  in  his  hand,  followed  her  noiselessly 
into  the  hall,  and  up  the  wide  stairs  to  the  square 
landing  where  they  ended.  Here  was  a  high  window, 
with  the  wide,  old-fashioned  window-seat  half  screened 
by  heavy,  faded  hangings,  and  on  either  side  doors, 
closed  now,  one  of  which  Katey  passed  breathlessly, 
and,  turning  around  the.  stair-rail,  pushed  open  a 
narrower  door,  opening  into  a  small,  dark  hall.  There 
was  scarcely  light  enough  here  to  reveal  the  winding, 
almost  upright  stairs  leading  to  the  attic  rooms.  Only 
one  of  these  was  furnished  now — "that  which  the  old 
actress  had  rented  for  a  time.  And  though  the  high- 
posted  bedstead,  with  its  flowered  chintz  curtains,  still 
remained,  with  the  brass-mounted  chest  of  drawers  and 
queer  old  spider-legged  dressing-table,  the  room  had 
been  long  since  given  over  to  the  dust  and  mystery 
of  disuse.  Katey  ran  up  the  stairs  and  opened  the 
door  with  a  certain  sense  of  awe,  treading  lightly, 
as  though  fearful  of  arousing  the  spirit  of  the  place  ; 
but  Ben,  conscious  only  of  his  happy  escape,  followed 
with  assurance,  chuckling  to  himself  and  cracking  his 
finger-joints  as  he  peeped  between  the  red  curtains, 
and  convinced  himself  that  the  room  had  been  long 
unoccupied.  "  Gorry,  Missy  Kate,"  he  ejaculated, 
performing  a  kind  of  noiseless  plantation  dance  about 
the  child ;  "  ole  mars'r'll  nebber  fine  Ben  in  dis  yere 
place." 

"  Wait  a  minute,"  Katey  replied.  She  led  the  way 
to  the  farther  side  of  the  bed,  where  was  a  low  door 
in  the  partition,  so  low  that  even  a  child  could  not  pass 
through  without  stooping.  Ben  dropped  upon  his 
knees  and  followed  her  as  she  disappeared,  finding 


62  KATHERINE   EARLE. 

himself  in  an  unfinished  garret,  to  which  this  low 
door  seemed  to  be  the  only  entrance.  The  place  was 
full  of  great  beams  and  rafters,  and  dim  with  shadows. 
But  for  the  light  through  the  open  doorway  and  the 
rays  of  the  morning  sun  struggling  with  the  cobwebs 
at  the  little  dust-begrimed  window  at  one  end,  utter 
darkness  would  have  reigned.  A  few  discarded  gar- 
ments hung  from  hooks  in  the  rafters,  and  a  bundle  of 
herbs  under  the  eaves  mingled  its  odors  with  the 
blose,  musty  air  of  the  place. 

"  Isn't  it  nice  ?  "  said  Katey  from  a  corner,  her  head 
in  a  cobweb. 

"  Gorry  !  "  was  Ben's  sole  response.  He  was  quite 
overcome  by  this  now  development  of  resources. 

"  Now  I  must  go  down,"  said  Katey.  "  It  is  break- 
fast time.  I'll  have  to  shut  the  door  and  push  the  bed 
up  before  it." 

"  0  Lor',  missy,  don'  do  dat  ar,"  gasped  Ben,  all 
his  fears  aroused  by  the  thought  of  being  thus  en- 
trapped. 

"  I  must,"  Katey  replied.  "  Then  no  one  can  see 
the  door ;  but  I'll  come  and  let  you  out  to-night  when 
it  is  dark." 

"  But  what  if  de  pleecemen  come  nosin'  roun'  ?  " 
Terrors  were  crowding  thick  upon  Ben  now.  "  Ye'd 
say  ye  didn't  know  nuffin'  bout  dis  nigger  dese  tree 
year  ;  wouldn'  ye  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

"  But  I  do  know,"  Katey  answered  with  eyes 
opened  wide. 

"  0  Lor',  Missy  Kate  !  are  you  gwine  to  tell  o'  pore 
Ben  ?  "  He  fell  on  his  knees  and  clutched  at  her  gown. 

"  Why,  of  course  I'm  not  going  to  tell ! "  and 
Katey's  astonishment  increased  still  more. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  63 

"  But  what  if  dey  come  sudden  like  ?  What  if  dey 
s'prise  ye  ?  "  he  asked,  doubtfully. 

A  vision  of  the  Leverett  Street  Jail,  of  the  Black 
Maria,  rose  before  her  ;  but  she  could  not  go  back  now. 
"  I  never  shall  tell,"  she  repeated. 

"  But  s'pose  dey  ask  ye  all  manner  o'  cur'us  ques- 
tions to  ketch  ye?  Swar,  Missy  Kate,  say, /By  Gor 
A'mighty  I  nebber  tell  nobody  ;bout  dis  nigger.'  " 

But  Katey  drew  back  horrified  at  the  proposition. 

"  I  can't  do  that,"  she  said,  stepping  through  the 
little  doorway.  Then  she  stooped  so  that  the  earnest 
face,  with  its  great  dark  eyes  and  its  cloud  of  heavy 
hair,  were  framed  for  a  moment. 

"  Don't  be  afraid,"  she  said  ;  "  I  never  shall  tell ; " 
and  then  she  closed  the  door. 

It  was  a  more  difficult  matter  to  move  the  heavy 
bed.  One  or  two  attempts  were  vain ;  but  finally 
putting  forth  all  her  strength,  it  started  and  rolled 
heavily  over  the  floor,  and  was  pushed  against  the 
door.  She  viewed  it  on  every  side.  The  entrance  to 
Ben's  retreat  was  quite  hidden ;  and  now  she  ran  as 
softly  and  quickly  as  possible  down  the  stairs. 

The  family  were  already  seated  at  the  breakfast 
table,  and  Chloe  was  bringing  in  the  coffee-urn  when 
she  appeared. 

"  Pow'ful  shower  comin,  missis,"  said  Chloe,  setting 
down  the  urn.  "  I  hear  do  funder  roll  awful  jus'  now." 

"  Thunder,"  shouted  Jack,  "  in  winter,  and  hardly 
a  cloud  in  the  sky  !  " 

"  Don'  care,  Massa  Jack,"  continued  Chloe,  who, 
having  been  long  in  the  family,  felt  privileged  to  ex- 
press her  mind  when  and  where  she  chose.  "  I  hear 
it  roll  arid  rumble  roun'  jus'  now." 


64  KATHERINE   EARLE. 

Katey  hid  her  flaming  cheeks  in  her  plate  ;  but  no 
one  heeded  her,  and  Chloe  left  the  room,  followed  by 
Jack's  mocking  laugh. 

"  I  did  hear  something,"  said  Madam  Earle,  checking 
him.  "  It  must  have  been  rats,  I  think." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  65 


CHAPTER  VI. 

ALMOST  A   MARTYR. 

prediction  proved  true  in  so  far  that  a 
\J  drizzling  rain  set  in  towards  night,  bringing  the 
winter  twilight  earlier  than  usual.  All  day  Katey  had 
been  tormented  by  fears  in  regard  to  Ben.  What  if 
her  mother  should  chance  to  make  one  of  her  rare  visits 
to  the  attic  rooms,  and  Ben,  thinking  it  herself,  should 
call  out  ?  What  if  the  "  pleecemen,"  of  whom  he 
stood  in  such  terror,  should  track  him  to  the  house  in 
her  absence  ?  If  she  were  only  there  she  might  per- 
haps prevent  the  discovery  of  his  hiding-place,  or  warn 
him  to  escape. 

At  noon  she  ran  all  the  way  home,  and  as  soon  as 
she  found  an  opportunity  flew  to  the  top  of  the  house. 
Everything  was  undisturbed,  however ;  the  bed  still 
occupied  the  place  before  the  little  door,  and,  leaning 
her  head  against  the  partition,  no  sound  came  from 
Ben's  retreat.  Perhaps  he  slept  after  his  wakeful, 
wandering  night ;  and  somewhat  relieved  of  her  anx- 
iety, the  child  crept  noiselessly  down  again. 

At  night,  less  impatient,  but  more  heavy-hearted  un- 
der her  weight  of  care,  she  plodded  home  in  the  rain, 
full  of  forebodings  as  to  Ben's  exit  from  the  house. 
How  could  she  ever  accomplish  it  ?  She  carried  her 
drenched  cloak  to  the  kitchen,  and  lingered  over  the 
5 


66  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

fire,  warming  her  chilled  fingers,  while  Chloe  moved 
heavily  back  and  forth,  preparing  the  tea.  0,  if  she 
dared  tell !  It  would  be  so  easy  for  Chloe  to  push  the 
bed  away,  pilot  Ben  down  the  kitchen  stairs,  and  let 
him  out  at  the  back  gate  !  As  the  wet,  cheerless  night 
settled  in,  and  the  time  drew  near  when  she  must  act, 
all  her  courage  died  away.  The  burden  she  had  taken 
up  seemed  greater  than  she  could  bear.  Chloe  paused 
before  the  little  drooping  figure  cowering  over  the  fire. 
"  What  ails  ye,  honey  ?  Ye  don't  seem  peart  like  as 
common." 

Katey  started  up  at  that.  Did  her  face  tell  her  se- 
cret ? 

"  0,  nothing,"  she  answered,  confusedly,  as  she  left 
the  room. 

No,  she  could  not  tell  Chloe,  who  would  cry  out  and 
startle  the  family,  most  likely  ;  and  what  might  not  her 
mother  believe  it  her  duty  to  do  with  Ben !  A  thought 
of  Jack,  her  refuge  in  all  times  of  trouble,  of  Jack 
fruitful  in  expedients,  did  cross  her  mind  as  she  en- 
tered the  parlor,  where  the  heavy  curtains  were  already 
drawn,  and  a  soft,  pleasant  light  and  warmth  filled  the 
room.  Her  mother  sat  before  the  escritoire,  writing. 
Neither  Delphine  nor  Jack  was  there.  But  it  did  not 
matter  ;  she  could  not  confide  her  secret  to  Jack,  even. 
O,  to  think  of  Jack  borne  away  in  the  Black  Maria !  — 
the  dreadful  jail  wagon  which  rattled  about  the  streets 
to  the  intense  horror  of  the  children,  who  huddled  close 
to  the  houses,  shrinking,  yet  stariug,  as  it  passed. 
They  might  perhaps  take  her,  but  not  Jack  ! 

She  stood  just  within  the  door,  hesitating,  held  back 
by  her  fears,  yet  knowing  that  she  must  go  now,  at  this 
moment,  and  release  her  prisoner.  She  had  worked 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  67 

herself  into  so  excited  and  feverish  a  state  that  she 
could  hardly  keep  from  crying  out.  She  was  afraid 
of  the  darkness  through  which  she  must  pass  to  reach 
him  ;  her  little  arms  were  weak  and  trembling :  could 
she  ever  make  the  heavy  bed  roll  back?  She  must 
ask  Chloe  for  a  light.  She  shivered  as  she  turned 
again  to  the  kitchen,  thinking  of  the  unused,  ghostly 
rooms  above,  the  dark  passage,  and  the  narrow,  winding 
stairs  which  she  must  mount  alone.  At  that  moment 
a  heavy,  resounding  rap  from  the  knocker  upon  the 
outer  door  echoed  through  the  house.  Another  fol- 
lowed, as  Chloe,  never  very  swift  in  her  movements, 
lingered  before  answering  the  summons. 

"  What  is  that  ?  "  There  was  something  so  peremp- 
tory in  the  call  that  Madam  Earle  laid  down  her  pen 
and  rose  from  her  chair,  behind  which  Katey  fled  in- 
stinctively. A  loud,  coarse  voice  was  heard  in  excited 
colloquy  with  Chloe ;  then  the  parlor  door  was  flung 
open,  and  the  girl  appeared,  the  hue  of  her  dusky 
cheeks  deepened,  her  head  thrown  back,  and  her  eyes 
a  blaze  of  light.  She  rested  her  hands  upon  her  hips 
as  she  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  looked  back  and  forth 
from  an  invisible  figure  in  the  hall  to  her  mistress. 

"  Look  a  he-ah,  missis,"  she  said  in  an  excited  tone  ; 
"  dis  'ere  man  say  he  come  for  Ben  !  I  tell  him  we 
don'no  nuffin'  'bout  dat  ar  lazy  nigger." 

Madam  Earle  stepped  forward  as  a  short,  stout  figure, 
surmounted  by  a  coarse,  swarthy  face,  appeared  at  the 
girl's  elbow.  "  Chloe,"  she  said,  as  the  man  entered 
the  room,  "  hand  a  chair  to  the  gentleman." 

"  'Clar'  to  goodness,  missis,  I  earn'  ban'  no  cha'rs  to 
such  trash,"  responded  Chloe,  mutinous  for  the  first 
time  in  a  long  and  faithful  servitude.  She  tossed  her 


68  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

head  with  a  contemptuous  snort,  pressing  her  hands 
like  a  vice  upon  her  sides. 

Madam  Earle  set  out  a  chair  without  speaking. 

"  Thankee,  ma'am ;  but  I  reckon  I'll  stand  whar  I 
can  see  the  door,"  replied  the  man,  with  an  ugly  leer. 

"  To  what  am  I  indebted  for  this  visit  ? "  asked 
Madam  Earle,  coldly.  But  even  before  she  spoke  he 
had  begun  a  fumbling  search  in  various  pockets.  He 
produced  now  a  folded  paper,  which  he  tapped  with  a 
very  dirty  forefinger. 

"  I've  got  an  officer  out  yere,  ma'am,"  he  said,  "  and 
this  is  a  'ficial  document,  a  warrant,  in  fact,  for  the 
apprehension  of  a  nigger  calling  himself  Ben,  and  said 
to  be  in  this  house  at  this  moment." 

"  Ain't  no  such  nigger  he'ah,"  broke  in  Chloe,  de- 
fiantly. 

"  Sof'ly,  gal,  sof'ly,"  returned  the  man.  "  Your  turn 
next,  perhaps ; "  and  again  he  winked,  as  though  a 
one-sided  spasm  contracted  his  face.  "  He  was  seen 
coming  into  the  yard  early  this  morning,"  he  ex- 
plained, as  he  replaced  the  paper  carefully  in  his 
breast  pocket. 

There  was  a  faint  sound,  as  of  an  exclamation  sup- 
pressed, from  the  corner  where  Katey  was  hidden,  but 
no  one  noticed  it.  Madam  Earle,  with  a  pale  but  com- 
posed face,  stood  quietly  regarding  the  man,  her  hands 
resting  upon  the  back  of  the  chair  she  had  offered  him. 
Could  it  be  true?  she  thought.  Could  Chloe  have 
taken  him  in?  But  no;  she  herself  had  sent  him  in 
another  direction  the  night  before.  He  must  be  miles 
away  on  his  northward  journey  by  this  time. 

"  I  swar  to  goodness,"  added  Chloe,  "  dat  ar  boy  ain't 
been  yere  dese  tree  weeks.  Some  un's  lied  to  ye." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  69 

"  Sof'ly,  sof 'ly,"  said  the  man.  "  Tears  to  me  you 
look  amazin'  like  a  gal  that  run  away  from  Columbus 
County  ten  year  or  so  ago.  I've  got  it  writ  down  some- 
where. But  one  at  a  time." 

"  I's  born  free.  Ye  earn'  touch  me,"  returned 
Chloe,  indignantly ;  but  she  shrank  back  and  was 
silent,  nevertheless,  as  the  intruder  stepped  to  the  door 
and  called  to  a  couple  of  policemen  waiting  outside. 
"  One  of  you  stand  here  and  look  right  sharp  while 
the  other  goes  through  the  house  with  me.  You're 
sure  Bill  is  at  the  back  gate  ? ;' 

Madam  Earle  expostulated.  "  This  certainly  is  un- 
necessary. I  give  you  my  word,  my  oath  if  you  re- 
quire it,  that  Ben  is  not  in  the  house  nor  upon  the 
premises." 

The  man  only  regarded  her  with  an  insulting  smile 
of  incredulity.  "  Seein's  believing,  ma'am.  You 
might  be  mistaken,  you  know  ;  "  and  again  that  awful 
facial  contortion,  intended  for  a  wink.  "  Come,  gal," 
—  to  Chloe,  as  he  produced  a  dark  lantern,  — • "  show  us 
about  the  house." 

Chloe  looked  towards  her  mistress,  but  did  not  move. 

"  Either  you  must  go  or  I,"  Madam  Earle  said  to  her. 
"  I  suppose  we  are  obliged  to  submit  to  this." 

"  You're  right,  ma'am,"  returned  the  man,  whose 
spirits  seemed  to  rise  each  moment.  . "  And  amazin' 
wise,  too.  There's  nothin'  like  resignation,  /  say. 
I;ve  been  a  local  preacher,  myself,  for  a  dozen  years  or 
so,  and  if  there's  any  one  doctrine  above  another  I've 
felt  called  upon  to  expound,  it's  that  of  Christian  resig- 
nation. When  ye  can't  hold  out  nohow,  sez  I,  give  in. 
That's  my  idea  of  it.  Now,  ma'am,"  —  and  he  rubbed 
his  hands  briskly,  —  "  what's  below  this  floor  ?  " 


70  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Only  the  unused  kitchens  and  cellars." 

"  That's  it.  We'll  take  a  look  at  'em.  Step  lively, 
gal."  And  Chloe  led  the  way  from  the  room.  Madam 
Earle  and  Katey  were  left  alone.  Now  was  Katey's 
time.  Trembling  and  faint  she  crept  into  the  hall. 
The  officer  on  guard  at  the  open  door  had  turned  his 
back  to  the  house,  and  stood  whistling  softly  to  him- 
self as  she  slipped  out  and  mounted  the  stairs,  her  feet 
heavy  as  though  shod  with  iron.  But  the  upper  hall 
once  gained,  sure  that  no  eye  could  see  her,  she  flew 
to  the  attic  chamber,  falling  against  the  bed  in  her 
haste  and  in  the  bewildering  darkness,  which  held  for 
the  moment  no  terrors,  since  other  and  greater  had 
seized  her.  Creeping  under  the  chintz  valance,  she 
felt  with  her  hands  for  the  low  door ;  then,  putting  her 
lips  to  the  crack,  she  called,  in  a  shrill  whisper,  "  Ben ! 
Ben!" 

There  was  no  response. 

"  0,  Ben !  "  she  called  again,  striking  her  knuckles 
fearfully  upon  the  panel.  Doors  were  being  opened 
and  shut  below,  she  fancied,  and  to  her  excited  imagi- 
nation there  was  even  a  step  upon  the  stairs. 

"  Yah,  Missy  Kate,"  a  cautious  voice  responded  now. 
There  was  a  sound  as  of  some  one  rising  stumbling- 
ly,  and  moving  towards  her.  "  I's  ready.  Ope  de 
door." 

"  0,  Ben,"  —  and  there  were  terror  and  agony  in  the 
whisper,  —  "  they've  come  !  " 

"  Who  come  ?  "  Katey  could  hear  his  loud  breath- 
ing close  to  her  face. 

"  The  men,  for  you  1 " 

"  Gor  A'mighty  !  le'  me  out,  le'  me  out  o'  dis  yere, 
quick." 


A    HAND    GRASPED    HER    ARM    AND    PULLED    UER    FORWARD.       Page    71. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  71 

"  I  can't.  They'd  hear  the  bed  roll.  They're  down 
stairs  now.  0,  Ben,  keep  still ;  they're  coming  up  ;  " 
and,  too  terrified  to  escape,  the  child  clutched  the  bed 
hangings  and  hid  her  face. 

It  was  a  false  alarm,  however.  She  could  presently 
hear  voices  in  the  rooms  below,  but  no  one  mounted 
the  stairs.  She  pressed  her  little  pale  face  once  more 
close  to  the  crack.  "'Ben,"  she  whispered,  "  don't  be 
afraid!  J — never  —  shall  —  tell!"  Then  she  crept 
from  under  the  bed,  felt  her  way  out  of  the  room  and 
down  the  stairs. 

She  had  reached  the  little  door  giving  entrance  to 
the  upper  front  hall,  when  it  was  suddenly  flung  open 
in  her  face ;  a  dazzling  light  fell  upon  her,  a  hand 
grasped  her  arm  and  pulled  her  forward,  while  a  harsh 
voice  exclaimed,  "  Ha  !  -what's  this  ?  What  ye  doing 
up  yere  ?  Ain't  this  the  little  gal  I  see  down  stairs  ? 
Speak  up,  now,  what  ye  doing  up  yere  ?  " 

The  little  dark  figure,  with  its  frightened  face, 
rested  motionless  in  the  hands  of  its  captors.  Not  a 
word  fell  from  the  close-shut  mouth. 

"  De  chile  done  scart  to  def,"  said  Chloe.  "  Run 
down  to  your  maum,  honey." 

"  You  speak  when  you're  spoken  to  ;  "  and  the  man 
pushed  Chloe  aside  roughly.  "  Come,  child,  whar'vo 
they  hid  this  nigger  ?  " 

The  awful  moment  had  come.  But  the  vision  of  the 
j:iil,  of  the  Black  Maria,  of  Ben  in  his  retreat  pleading 
for  her  silence,  all  faded  away.  She  was  conscious 
only  of  a  strange  whirr  in  her  ears,  as,  with  the  great 
dark  eyes  fixed  upon  his,  she  stared  at  her  inquisitor, 
fascinated,  but  speechless. 

His  heavy  hand  fell  upon  her  shoulder.  Chloe  sprang 
forward.  "  Don'  ye  dar'  touch  dat  chile  !  " 


72  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  The  girl  is  right,"  said  the  officer,  coming  up. 
"  You  must  not  lay  your  hands  upon  the  child." 

"  Come  along,  then,"  said  the  man,  preparing  to 
mount  the  narrow  stairs.  "She  came  down  here." 
Katey,  daring  neither  to  follow  nor  to  return  to  her 
mother  in  this  moment  of  suspense,  too  frightened,  in- 
deed, to  move  from  where  they  had  left  her,  heard  a 
sharply-uttered  expletive  as  some  one  tripped  over 
the  last  step,  then,  "  Hark !  What's  that  ?"  from  the 
rough  voice. 

"  Dat's  de  rats,  gemmen,"  Chloe  explained.  "  Better 
look  up  de  chimley,"  she  suggested,  contemptuously, 
when  the  light  had  been  thrown  into  every  corner  of 
the  empty  rooms,  revealing  only  long-fallen  dust  and 
festooning  cobwebs. 

They  entered  the  chamber  through  which  the  child 
and  Ben  had  passed,  making  an  unavailing  search 
here  as  elsewhere.  Chloe  was  too  much  engrossed  to 
notice  the  change  in  the  position  of  the  bed.  "  Be  you 
gemmen  gwine  up  yere  ?  "  she  asked,  standing  under 
the  skylight,  to  which  a  short  flight  of  stairs  led.  "  Dat 
nigger  hangin'  by  his  eyelids  from  de  roof  mos'  like,"* 
she  added,  with  a  laugh,  saucy  and  confident,  now 
that  the  search  was  so  nearly  concluded.  The  man, 
however,  paid  no  attention  to  the  words.  He  was 
walking  back  and  forth,  measuring  the  ceiling  and 
partition  with  his  eye.  Suddenly  he  laid  his  hand 
upon  the  wall  behind  which  Ben  was  hidden.  "  What's 
in  here  ?  "  he  questioned,  suspiciously ;  "  the  front  room 
don't  come  back  to  this." 

Chloe,  who  began  to  feel  impatient  over  his  unwill- 
ingness to  be  convinced,  turned  again  to  the  front 
chamber  with  an  angry  toss  of  the  head.  "  Who's 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  73 

been  yere  ?  "  she  muttered  below  her  breath,  noticing 
for  the  first  time  that  the  bed  had  been  moved.  Her 
mistress,  most  likely.  She  touched  it  with  her  strong 
hand,  and  it  rolled  back  with  a  heavy,  rumbling  sound, 
revealing  the  door. 

"  Ha  !  "  exclaimed  the  man  ;  "  now,  gal,  open  the 
door,  and  go  in  first  with  the  light.  We'll  follow.  This 
begins  to  look  like  it." 

"  Look  jus'  like  it,"  returned  Chloe,  opening  it  with- 
out the  least  hesitation  ;  "  as  if  de  nigger  done  got  in 
yere,  shet  de  door,  and  pull  up  de  bed  ! " 

The  little  door  flew  back  against  the  partition ;  the 
light,  scattering  the  darkness  within,  revealed  —  what  ? 
Only  dust  and  cobwebs,  and  the  discarded  garments 
hanging  from  the  rafters  ;  nothing  more.  Chloe  waved 
her  lantern  so  that  the  glare  should  illumine  every 
corner.  But  why  did  her  eyes  almost  start  from  their, 
sockets,  while  her  teeth  fairly  chattered  in  her  head  ? 
As  she  stooped  to  pick  up  a  garment  which  had  appar- 
ently fallen  from  its  nail,  she  recognized  in  it  the  old 
camlet  cloak  which  she  had  carried  to  the  parlor  the 
night  before,  and  which  she  had  learned  afterwards 
from  Mammy  had  been  given  to  Ben.  She  could  not 
be  mistaken ;  it  was  the  same,  she  knew.  How  came 
it  there  ?  Where  was  Ben  ?  She  glanced  about  fear- 
fully, half  expecting  to  see  the  shambling  form  emer- 
ging from  the  shadows.  The  men  were  examining  the 
window.  It  was  fastened  upon  the  inside.  Her  pres- 
ence of  mind  did  not  desert  her.  She  shook  out  the 
cloak  carelessly,  and  hung  it  up  with  the  rest,  then  led 
the  way  in  silence  to  the  outer  chamber.  It  was  with 
a  quaking  spirit  that  she  now  saw  the  men  prepare 
to  explore  the  roof.  "  I'll  ope  de  window,"  she  said, 


74  KATHERTNE  EARLE. 

officiously,  mounting  the  stairs  with  a  great  shuffling 
and  stumbling  noise,  and  raising  the  skylight  only 
after  having  let  it  fall  once  with  a  warning  clatter. 
But  her  fears  were  vain ;  the  men  returned  alone,  the 
jubilant  spirits  of  the  principal  character  in  the  search 
seeming  to  have  deserted  him  as  he  retraced  his  steps 
slowly,  pausing  occasionally  to  ponder,  and  question, 
and  explore  some  hidden  corner  on  his  way  to  the 
parlor,  where  by  this  time  Delphine  and  Jack  had 
joined  their  mother.  In  a  few  moments  the  door 
closed  after  their  unwelcome  visitors,  and  the  family 
was  left  to  itself  again. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  75 


CHAPTER   VII. 

WHERE   IS   BEN? 

HARDLY  had  the  gate  swung  to  with  a  dull  echo 
when  Chloe  rushed  into  the  parlor;  upon  her 
countenance  was  that  peculiar  ashen  hue  which  in  the 
dusky  race  betokens  fright  or  sudden  strong  emotion. 
Her  eyes  appeared  to  have  become  detached,  and  to 
roll  strangely  in  her  head. 

"  0  Lor',  Missis,  whar's  dat  ar  Ben  ?  " 

Madam  Earle  stared  at  the  girl  as  though  her  senses 
had  deserted  her.  "  What  do  you  mean,  Chloe  ?  " 

"  You  shore  he's  no  in  de  house  ?  "  pursued  the  girl, 
who  for  the  moment  almost  doubted  her  mistress.  No 
one -else  could  have  hidden  him. 

"  Certainly  not,"  Madam  Earle  replied ;  but  her  voice 
and  manner  were  agitated.  Could  Chloe  have  learned 
the  dangerous  secret  of  how  she  had  tried  to  aid  Ben  ? 
But  Chloe  was  too  much  engrossed  with  the  thought 
of  her  discovery  to  be  thoroughly  suspicious.  She 
desired  only  to  impart  it.  "  Wha?  you  tink  I  foun'  up 
in  de  back  attic  ?  "  she  went  on,  breathlessly.  Then 
she  lowered  her  voice  to  an  awful  whisper  as  Jack 
and  Delphine  drew  near :  "  Dat  ar  camlip  cloak  you 
done  gif  Mammy  las'  night !  " 

"  You  were  mistaken,"  Madam  Earle  said,  quickly ; 
"  you  were  excited,  and  so  took  something  else  for  that. 


76  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

It  could  not  be,"  she  added,  decidedly.  The  camlet 
cloak  by  this  time  must  be  well  on  its  way  to  Canada, 
she  thought. 

For  reply,  Chloe  pulled  something  triumphantly 
from  her  pocket.  It  was  a  piece  of  brown  wrapping- 
paper  holding  the  remains  of  a  sandwich.  "  I  see  dat 
ar  when  I  stoop  to  pick  up  de  cloak,  and  I  done  scrab- 
ble it  in  yere ;  "  and  the  paper  vanished  into  her 
pocket  again. 

What  did  it  mean?  A  word  of  explanation  from 
their  mother  was  necessary  for  Delphine  and  Jack  to 
comprehend  the  beginning  of  the  mystery.  "  Mammy 
was  in  great  trouble,"  she  said ;  "  I  gave  her  the  old 
camlet  cloak,  some  sandwiches,  and  some  money."  She 
paused  ;  not  that  she  feared  to  confess  the  whole  lest 
her  children  should  inform  against  her;  but  a  little 
flush  warmed  her  pale  face  as  she  remembered  the 
lesson  she  had  impressed  upon  Delphine  and  Katey  in 
regard  to  supporting  the  law.  Then  she  went  on 
quite  humbly,  "  I  knew,  when  I  gave  them  to  her,  that 
she  would  use  them  all  for  Ben." 

Delphine's  arm  crept  about  her  mother's  neck.  "  I'm 
so  glad  you  have  told  us ! "  she  whispered ;  "  for  I 
thought  you  were  hard  and  cruel  to  her.  See  how 
unjust  I  have  been  ! "  Then  Delphine's  thoughts  re- 
turned to  Chloe's  story.  .  "  But  what  does  it  mean  ?  " 
she  added,  in  the  same  breath. 

"  Put  the  chain  across  the  door,"  said  Madam  Earle ; 
"  and,  Chloe,  "see  that  all  the  doors  and  windows  are 
fastened.  We  must  look  into  this.  Where  is  Katey  ?  " 

No  one  knew.  No  one  remembered  to  have  seen 
her.  Chloe  was  appealed  to.  She  recalled  the  in- 
cident upon  the  stairs.  A  horrible  suspicion  seized 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  77 

Delphine.  Wild  stories  of  kidnapping  floated  about 
in  these  days,  and  poor  little  Katey  was  not  of  the 
fairest  skin  ;  might  not  —  Delphine  flew  into  the  hall, 
calling  her  name  aloud ;  Jack  darted  up  the  stairs  ; 
Madam  Earle  and  Chloe  followed  hurriedly,  bearing 
lights.  As  they  attempted  to  open  the  door  of  the 
room  which  Delphine  and  Katey  occupied  together, 
something  resisted  their  efforts.  It  was  Jack  who 
crowded  through  the  narrow  space,  and  found  a  little 
dark  heap  lying  against  the  door  —  who  gathered  the 
child  up  in  his  arms,  and  bore  her,  with  awkward  ten- 
derness, down  the  stairs,  depositing  her  upon  the  sofa 
in  the  parlor  at  last. 

"  0,  Jack  !  "  she  cried,  throwing  her  arms  around  his 
neck,  when,  with  a  little  sobbing  sigh,  the  breath  re- 
turned to  the  white  lips,  and  the  eyes  opened  to  find 
Jack's  dear  face  bent  over  her.  "  Don't  let  them  take 
me  !  don't  let  them  take  me  !  0,  I  can't  go  !  "  and  in 
her  terror  her  arms  tightened  about  his  nock. 

"  Lord  a  massy,"  wailed  Chloe,  "  de  chile  cl'ar  gone 
crazy." 

But  Madam  Earle  began  to  faintly  surmise  the  truth. 
"  No  one  can  take  you,  dear,"  she  said  ;  "  and  they  did 
not  find  Ben." 

Jack,  who  had  been  growing  very  red  in  the  face 
under  Katey 's  convulsive  embrace,  was  suddenly  re- 
leased. "  But  I  heard  the  bed  roll  back ;  then  I  tried 
to  hide,"  she  added. 

"  He  done  gone,  missy,"  said  Chloe ;  and  seeing  that 
the  child  still  stared  as  though  she  did  not  compre- 
hend, she  proceeded  to  elaborate  her  assertion.  "  Run, 
streaked  it,  clar'd  out,"  she  added,  convincingly. 

"  Gone  ! "    and   Katey   sat    upright.     "  How    could 


78  KATHER1NE  EARLE. 

he  get  out?  I  pushed  the  bed  up  against  the 
door  ! " 

Such  confusion  of  exclamations,  and  kisses,  and  tears 
as  this  simple  sentence  evolved  !  "  0,  you  bressed 
chile  ! "  cried  Chloe,  falling  down  before  her,  and 
clasping  her  knees.  '  . 

Little  by  little  the  story  was  told,  Katey's  head 
lying  back  in  her  mother's  arms,  Delphine  holding  her 
feet,  and  Jack  making  awkward  dabs  at  her  head  oc- 
casionally, under  the  impression  that  he  was  stroking 
her  hair. 

Even  her  hesitation  and  fears  before  taking  Ben 
into  the  house  she  did  not  hide.  "  You  see,"  she  said, 
apologetically,  looking  gravely  from  one  to  another  of 
the  little  group,  "  I  thought  you  might  feel  bad  if  they 
found  it  out,  and  took  me  away  in  the  Black  Maria." 

Here  Jack,  whose  countenance  had  been  working 
in  a  fearful  and  wonderful  manner  while  he  stared 
fixedly  at  the  wall  before  him,  uttered  a  sound  be- 
tween a  snort  and  a  groan,  and  bolted  from  the  room. 
Delphme  embraced  the  little  worn  shoes.  "  You  are 
a  born  heroine,  dear,"  she  said.  But  Madam  Earle 
shook  her  head  as  she  stroked  the  dark  cheek  lying 
against  her  arm.  "  Child,  what  will  you  do  next  ! " 
she  said. 

"Now,  missis,  don'  you  scole  dat  pore  chile,"  in- 
terposed Chloe. 

And  no  one  scolded  Katey. 

When  the  excitement  and  surprise  were  over,  they 
returned,  one  and  all,  to  the  first  question  :  where  was 
Ben ?  "I  will  go  up  to  the  attic,  and  see  for  myself," 
Madam  Earle  said.  But  no  one  would  be  left  behind. 
Even  Katey  followed  the  others,  half  carried  in  Chloe's 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  79 

strong  arms.  Could  Ben,  by  any  possibility,  be  lurk- 
ing still  in  the  house  ?  Katey  called  his  name  softly 
as  they  went  on,  but  there  was  no  response.  The  bed 
was  pushed  back  from  before  the  low  door  in  the  front 
attic ;  the  door  itself  stood  open,  as  Chloe  had  left  it. 
"  Ben  !  "  called  the  child ;  but  ho  one  replied,  and  one 
after  another  they  passed  through  the  narrow  open- 
ing, Chloe  holding  the  lamp  high  above  her  head  to 
light  the  darkness.  The  place  was  empty  of  human 
presence  save  themselves.  But  Chloe  had  spoken  the 
truth ;  the  old  camlet  cloak  was  suspended  from  the 
nail  where  she  had  hung  it. 

How  had  Ben  escaped  ?  "  Through  the  window," 
Dclpliino  suggested.  But  it  was  fastened  by  a  nail 
upon  the  inside. 

"  I  know  !  "  exclaimed  Jack ;  "  I  had  forgotten  all 
about  it."  He  parted  the  ghostly  garments  hanging 
from  the  beams,  and  pointed  to  a  trap-door  fitted  so 
nicely  as  to  be  quite  concealed  except  upon  close  in- 
spection, and  so  near  to  the  floor  in  the  slope  of  the 
roof  as  to  be  easily  gained. 

"  And  the  oddest  part  of  it  is,"  he  went  on,  "  that 
when  it  is  shut  you  would  never  notice  it  from  the 
outside." 

"  Ben  must  have  discovered  it  during  the  day, 
and  escaped  when  Katey  warned  him ;  but  where  ?  " 
queried  Madam  Earle,  letting  the  garments  fall  back 
into  their  place  again. 

"  0,  I've  been  out  there,"  Jack  replied.  "  You  can 
creep  along  to  the  chimney,  and  then  slide  down  to 
the  shed  roof;  and  from  there  it  is  nothing  to  drop  to 
the  fence,  and  so  to  the  street."' 

"  Then  they  haven't  found  him  ? "  asked  Katey, 
doubtingly  :  she  was  not  yet  convinced. 


80  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Found  him  ?  No,  indeed.  Ben  is  safe  enough," 
returned  Jack  in  a  tone  of  such  entire  conviction  that 
Katey's  heart  was  eased  of  its  burden. 

Ah1  the  next  day  she  lay  upon  the  sofa  in  the  parlor, 
prostrate  under  the  weakness  and  languor  which  fol- 
lowed her  unnatural  excitement.  But  no  queen  upon 
a  throne  ever  received  such  homage.  Delphine  wrote 
her  French  exercises  close  by  her  pillow  ;  Jack,  upon 
his  knees  before  her,  poured  out  his  whole  store  of 
treasures  —  stringless  tops,  bats  for  lost  balls,  a  col- 
lection too  numerous  for  mention  —  and,  last  of  all,  a 
wonderful  ship,  of  his  own  construction,  which  was 
like  no  craft  ever  afloat.  Even  Chloe  expended  all 
her  skill  in  the  building  of  a  surprising  tart,  which 
was  brought  in  upon  an  old-fashioned  china  plate,  and 
presented  with  as  much  ceremony  as  though  it  had 
been  the  freedom  of  a  city.  And  after  a  time  Mammy 
appeared,  —  poor  Mammy,  who  was  still  in  doubt  as  to 
Ben's  fate,  —  in  a  series  of  dips  which  were  nothing 
less  than  heavy  gymnastics,  making  of  her  approach, 
through  the  periodical  inflation  of  her  scant  petticoats, 
a  succession  of  "  cheese-cakes  "  marvellous  to  witness. 
She  fairly  submerged  Katey  in  watery  blessings  and 
benedictions.  "  Dis  yere  chile,"  she  said  at  last,  sol- 
emnly, "  is  'lected  fo'  some  mighty  porpoise.  De  Lor 
bress  ye,  honey  !  De  Lor  will  bress  ye,"  she  added, 
raising  her  head  and  gazing  away  beyond  Katey,  with 
the  far-seeing  eyes  of  prophecy. 

It  was  during  Mammy's  visit  that  Katey  learned  of 
Ben's  errand  to  the  old  Quaker.  And  now,  with  some- 
thing tangible  before  her,  something  really  to  wait  for 
and  expect,  her  excitement  and  anxiety  increased 
every  moment.  As  the  day  wore  on,  the  pale  cheeks 


K-ATHERINE  EARLE.  81 

became  so  flushed,  the  dark  eyes  so  unnaturally  bright, 
that  Madam  Earle's  fears  were  aroused.  "  Dear  child, 
try  to  forget  it  all,"  she  said,  turning  the  hot  pillow  ; 
"  we  shall  hear  something  by  morning,  perhaps  ;  but 
close  your  eyes  now,  and  go  to  sleep." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,"  Katey  replied,  obediently ;  but  in  a 
moment  the  great  shining  eyes  were  following  her 
mother  about  the  room.  "  They  open  themselves," 
Katey  explained,  humbly.  Slowly  the  long  day  wore 
away ;  the  wind  wailing  drearily  in  the  chimney,  the 
rain  falling  steadily  against  the  window-pane. 

The  heavy  curtains  were  drawn  at  last,  shutting  out 
the  trickling  drops,  and  the  high,  bare  brick  wall  over 
the  way.  The  fire  brightened  in  the  darkness,  the 
wailing  wind  was  stilled,  and  Katey  fell  into  a  troubled 
sleep,  from  which  she  was  aroused  by  a  startling  peal 
upon  the  knocker.  Even  Madam  Earle  felt  her  heart 
cease  to  beat  for  a  moment,  as  she  held  clasped  tight 
in  her  arms  the  form  of  the  child  who  had  sprung  up 
with  a  cry.  The  fire-light  shone  upon  Chloe's  startled 
face  thrust  into  the  room.  "  Shall  I  ope  de  door, 
missis  ?  "  she  asked,  in  a  hoarse  whisper.  "  What  ef 
dat  ar  kidnap  done  come  agin  ?  " 

"  Certainly  you  must  open  the  door ;  but  bring  a 
light  first." 

There  was  a  moment  of  suspense  as  Chloe's  shuf- 
fling step  moved  through  the  hall.  They  heard  the 
cautious  opening  of  the  heavy  door,  then  the  fall  of 
the  clanking  chain,  followed  by  the  cheering  tones 
of  Chloe's  echoing  laugh.  Madam  Earle  laid  the  child 
back  upon  her  pillow.  Even  Katey  knew  that  their 
dreaded  visitor  had  not  come. 

"  How  does  thoe  do  ?  " 
6 


82  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

An  old  gentleman  stood  just  within  the  door,  his 
face  almost  hidden  under  the  broad-brimmed,  gray 
felt  hat  he  had  not  yet  removed.  His  straight-bodied 
coat,  and  even  his  hair,  were  of  this  same  gray  hue, 
reminding  Katey  of  a  doll  she  had  owned  once,  knit 
of  gray  yarn  from  head  to  foot,  and  bound  off  at  the 
toes.  His  eyes  were  bright,  and  black,  and  shining, 
she  could  see  as  he  advanced  to  meet  her  mother,  — 
like  beads,  she  said,  still  thinking  of  the  doll,  —  and 
then  she  laughed  aloud. 

"  Ah  !  so  this  is  the  child ;  "  and  he  turned  to  the 
sofa,  laying  his  hand  softly  upon  Katey's  head. 

"  And  this  is  Jason  Miles,'7  her  mother  explained ; 
"  the  good  man  to  whom  I  sent  Ben.  And  now  — 

But  Katey  sat  upright  among  her  pillows.  "  WJiere 
is  Sen?-' 

The  old  gentleman  laughed,  —  a  little,  wheezing 
laugh,  which  shook  his  body  without  materially  affect- 
ing his  countenance. 

"  He  is  safe  ;  but  that  is  all  I  can  tell  thee  now. 
Will  thee  not  rest  satisfied?" 

"  I  suppose  it's  a  secret,"  Katey  replied,  slowly. 
She  had  her  own  ideas  as  to  honor — quaint,  childish 
ideas,  but  true  in  the  main ;  and  she  asked  nothing 
more  of  Ben,  much  as  she  desired  to  know  where  and 
how  he  had  escaped. 

"  Yes,  a  great  secret ;  "  and  again  the  rusty  ma- 
chinery within  the  old  gentleman  seemed  to  run  down 
noisily.  Then  he  turned  to  her  mother.  "  I  knew  thee 
would  be  anxious  about  the  apples,"  he  said,  with  a 
twinkle  of  the  bright  eyes ;  "  so  I  brought  them  as 
soon  as-  possible.  I  got  the  note  about  midnight. 
Thee  had  better  know  nothing  more ;  then  thee  can 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  83 

answer  no  questions."  He  rose  up  as  though  his 
errand  were  done.  "  My  son  is  at  the  gate.  We  will 
roll  the  barrels  in  at  once.  I  am  in  some  haste  to  re- 
turn. Good  by,  little  one,  and  God  bless  thee  for  a 
brave  child  ! "  He  stood  a  moment  over  Katey,  his 
hands  resting  upon  her  head,  and  she  fancied  he  said 
something  softly  to  himself.  Then  he  followed  her 
mother  out  of  the  room. 

She  lay  quite  still  after  he  had  gone.  A  blessed 
quiet  had  descended  upon  her,  like  that  which  filled 
the  church  when  the  people  bowed  their  heads  to  the 
last  amen.  By  and  by  Jack  crept  in  to  sit  beside  her, 
awed  into  silence  at  sight  of  the  white  face  from  which 
the  flush  had  faded  away,  and  Delphine  before  the  old 
piano  sang  a  little  song  in  her  sweet  voice.  It  was  a 
restful  song,  which  had  in  it  yet  something  of  thanks- 
giving, and  it  stole  into  Katey's  heart,  and  nestled  and 
crooned  there  softly,  as  she  sank  into  a  gentle  sleep. 


84  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  Yin. 

t 

IN  WHICH  THE   OLD   YOUNG   MAN  APPEARS. 

A  TIME  of  rest  from  excitement  succeeded  —  the 
ebb  after  a  flowing  tide.  So  far  as  the  Earle 
household  knew,  no  other  search  was  ever  made  for 
Ben,  who  was  assuredly  not  worth  the  trouble  of  pur- 
suit. He  escaped  in  safety  to  Canada,  returning, 
when  the  excitement  had  died  away,  the  same  shift- 
less, helpless  character  as  before,  aggravated,  how- 
ever, by  a  new  sense  of  his  own  importance  ;  and  the 
little  back  attic  hid  never  again  anything  duskier  than 
the  shadows. 

Gradually  the  winter  wore  out  and  the  spring 
peeped  through.  Not  the  spring  of  the  country,  all 
buds,  and  birds,  and  blossoms ;  and  yet  something 
of  bloom  came  even  to  Poplar  Street.  Certain  de- 
mented robins  —  for  surely  no  bird  of  a  sound  mind 
would  seek  the  crowded,  noisy  town  —  came  to  build 
in  the  apple  trees  in  the  back  yard  —  the  poor  old 
trees  that  had  nearly  overslept  the  time  of  waking, 
and  shook  out  only  a  scant  banner  of  green  as  the 
spring  went  trailing  by.  White  syringas  and  an  old- 
fashioned  lilac  bloomed  under  the  parlor  windows, 
while  across  the  narrow  front  yard,  the  honeysuckle, 
climbing  the  ugly  brick  wall,  threw  out  delicate  arms 
to  sway,  and  beckon,  and  promise  sweets  to  the 
summer. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  85 

With  the  spring  came  a  new  wonder  to  Katey. 
The  old  young  man  who  had  danced  with  Delphine 
at  the  party  began  to  appear  at  every  turn.  What 
did  it  mean  ?  Did  they  walk  quietly  down  the  street, 
bent  upon  a  mission  of  charity,  to  Mammy,  perhaps  — 
lo  !  as  they  reached  the  first  corner  he  stood  before 
them,  smiling,  and  bowing,  and  raising  his  hat.  The 
basket  in  Delphinc's  hand  was  changed  to  his  own  ;  he 
walked  by  her  side  unrebuked,  and  even  welcomed, 
which  Katey,  who  was  left  to  follow  as  she  chose, 
marked  with  indignant  astonishment. 

He  seemed  to  the  child  to  spring  up  from  between 
the  bricks  of  the  sidewalk,  so  unlocked  for  was  his 
coming.  Did  they  attend  church  —  out  from  the 
shadows  under  the  heavy  old-fashioned  gallery  his 
face  beamed  upon  them ;  did  Katey  come  strolling 
home  late  from  school  —  she  was  sure  to  catch  a 
glimpse  against  the  syringa  blossoms  of  Delphine's 
pink  gown  vanishing  through  the  gateway,  and  the 
next  moment  the  well-known  form  passed  her,  the 
old  young  man  smiling  and  raising  his  hat.  "  Smiling 
at  nothing  at  all,"  Katey  said  to  herself,  giving  him  a 
stiff  little  bow  as  she  passed.  "  Silly  thing  !  "  she 
added,  from  the  depths  of  her  superior  wisdom.  But 
her  astonishment  know  no  bounds  when,  one  afternoon 
as  she  came  down  the  street,  she  saw  him  deliberately 
entering  the  great  gate.  She  started  upon  a  run, 
swinging  her  bonnet  by  the  strings  with  an  indig- 
nant whirl  at  the  sight  of  this  invasion.  Her  eyes 
had  surely  deceived  her  !  But  no  ;  when  she  pushed 
open  the  heavy  gate  he  stood  upon  the  broad  stone 
steps  before  the  door.  His  hand  was  upon  the 
knocker ;  but  at  Katey's  appearance  he  paused. 


86  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Well,  little  one,"  he  said  pleasantly,  by  way  of 
greeting,  as  the  elfish  figure,  clad  soberly  in  brown, 
with  the  little  bonnet  still  hanging  by  her  side,  came 
up  to  him.  Katey  made  no  reply.  The  occasion 
plainly  called  for  severity.  She  opened  the  door 
with  an  absorbed  and  pre-occupied  air,  and  would 
have  disappeared  among  the  soft,  cool  shadows  within, 
had  he  not  stretched  out  his  hand  to  detain  her. 
"  Could  I  see  Miss  Earle  a  moment  ?  Your  sister." 

"  0,  Delphine,"  Katey  said.  Then  why  did  you  say 
"  Miss  Earle,"  she  wanted  to  add,  as,  leaving  him  upon 
the  threshold  of  the  parlor,  from  which  the  summer 
sunshine  had  been  shut  out,  she  ran  away  to  call 
Delphine. 

The  young  man  groped  forward.  After  the  dazzling 
glare  of  a  summer  day  outside,  he  could  distinguish 
nothing  among  the  faint,  ill-defined  forms  here.  It 
was  odd  to  think  that  the  great,  prone  creature  before 
him  might  in  the  light  prove  only  a  sofa,  or  —  then 
there  was  a  sound  as  of  a  swift  step  upon  the  stairs, 
and  the  child  appeared  again,  a  veritable  brownie  in 
the  dim  light. 

"  You  found  her  ?  "  he  ventured,  interrogatively. 

"  Yes,"  with  a  little  drawl  of  importance. 

"  Well,"  —  when  Katey  volunteered  nothing  more, — 
"  what  did  she  say  ?  " 

The  child  had  crossed  the  room,  and,  opening  the 
blind,  let  in  a  long,  quivering  ray  of  sunshine,  in  which 
she  stood  like  a  droll  little  saint,  with  a  glistening  halo 
about  her  head.  She  hesitated  a  moment,  folding  her 
hands  and  looking  down. 

"  She  said  —  "  she  began. 

"Well!" 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  87 

"  She  said,"  Katey  went  on  with  grave  deliberation, 
"  '  What  in  the  world  has  he  come  for  ? ' ' 

The  young  man  stared  open-eyed,  and  then  laughed, 
viewing  Katey  as  though  she  had  been  a  newly- dis- 
covered species. 

"  Perhaps  you  would  like  to  know  what  I  have  come 
for  ?  " 

Yes,  Katey's  face  betrayed  her  curiosity ;  but  at 
that  moment,  Delphine,  sweet  and  shy,  appeared  in 
the  doorway,  dismissing  the  child  by  a  backward 
wave  of  the  hand  as  she  closed  the  door.  Katey  sat 
down  upon  the  stairs  to  await  the  development  of  the 
mystery.  Presently  Delphine,  who  had  slipped  out 
of  the  parlor  unobserved,  tripped  over  her  as  she 
hurried  by.  "  What  are  you  doing  here,  child  ? 
Run  away." 

She  rose  and  mounted  the  stairs  slowly.  But  she  had 
hardly  ensconced  herself  in  the  window-seat  of  the  hall 
above,  before  Delphine  descended,  accompanied  this 
time  by  her  mother.  The  parlor  door 'closed  upon 
them.  Curled  up  behind  the  curtains,  with  the  heavy 
odor  of  the  lilacs  stealing  in  at  the  open  window,  and 
the  soft  twilight  slowly  gathering  outside,  she  waited 
and  listened.  A  great  bumble-bee  went  whirring  by 
to  the  honeysuckle  over  the  way ;  the  bit  of  blue  sky 
discernible  between  the  high  brick  houses  was  drifted 
over  with  summer  clouds  ;  there  was  a  twitter  of 
birds  in  the  elm  just  outside  the  great  gate  ;  but  no 
sound  came  from  the  mysterious  stillness  below. 
After  a  time  she  heard  Chloe's  heavy  tread  in  the 
hall,  and  a  faint  glimmer  from  the  swinging  lamp 
over  the  stairs  reached  her  hiding-place.  All  at 
once,  when  she  had  almost  decided  to  steal  down  in 


88  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

search  of  Jack,  the  echo  of  voices  came  up  to  her. 
The  parlor  door  had  been  opened,  the  outer  door 
swung  to,  and  a  sudden  stillness  succeeded.  The 
visitor  had  gone. 

She  sprang  out  and  ran  down  the  stairs.  Jack  had 
come  in,  and  the  family  were  seating  themselves  at  the 
tea  table.  Her  mother's  face  was  unusually  grave,  and 
upon  Delphine's  cheeks  were  unmistakable  signs  of 
recent  tears.  "  0,  dear  !  what  can  it  be  ?  "  thought 
Katey,  too  proud  to  ask,  since  she  had  been  so  plainly 
left  out  of  their  confidence.  Jack  alone  appeared  as 
usual.  He  was  in  high  spirits,  and  gradually,  in 
listening  to  his  account  of  the  trials  and  adventures 
with  which  every  boyish  day  was  full,  her  curiosity 
was  forgotten,  and  the  mystery  of  the  afternoon 
passed  from  her  mind. 

Lying  in  her  little  white  bed  at  night,  she  was 
awakened  as  though  her  name  had  been  uttered 
aloud.  She  opened  her  eyes,  —  was  it  morning  ? 
No  ;  it  was  'the  bright  moonlight  which  flooded  the 
room,  and  made  of  Delphine,  standing  before  the 
window  with  her  hair  unbound,  a  white-robed  spirit. 

Katey  gave  a  little  cry,  and  hid  her  face  from  the 
vision. 

"  It  is  only  I.  Are  you  awake  ? "  said  Delphine. 
She  crossed  the  room,  and  sat  down  upon  the  edge 
of  the  bed.  "  I  want  to  tell  you  something."  And 
Katey,  looking  into  her  shining  face,  and  seeing  the 
glint  of  glory  on  her  hair,  trembled,  and  felt  that  per- 
haps it  was  an  angel,  after  all.  She  put  out  her  hand 
to  touch  her  softly.  A  passing  cloud  hid  the  moon. 
The  glory  died  out  of  the  room,  and  it  was  indeed 
only  Delphine,  with  her  golden-brown  hair  falling  over 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  89 

her  shoulders,  and  with,  an  untold  story  in  her  face. 
"  Do  you  know  what  I  am  going  to  tell  you  ?  " 

''  No,"  Katey  replied.  How  should  she  know  !  and 
if  she  did,  what  would  be  the  use  of  telling  it ! 

"  I  am  going  to  be  married,"  said  Delphine, 
dreamily,  and  as  though  to  herself. 

"  Why,  Delphine  Eaiie  !  "  exclaimed  the  child,  sit- 
ting upright  in  the  bed. 

She  had  thought  of  marriage  indefinitely,  as  a 
state  upon  which  they  would  each  and  all  enter  at 
some  distant  period  of  their  lives  —  an  inevitable 
event ;  but  so  far  away,  so  shrouded  in  the  dimness 
of  futurity,  as  to  bo  beyond  ail  calculation.  Delphine, 
it  seemed,  had  forestalled  the  time,  and  Katey's  first 
impulse  was  one  of  indignation. 

"  I  shall  tell  mother,"  she  said,  severely. 

Delphine  laughed.  "  0,  she  knows  it.  She  said  I 
might  tell  you." 

This  made  a  different  affair  of  it,  and  Katey  was  for 
a  time  lost  in  astonishment  and  the  gravest  cal- 
culations. 

•  "  Do  you   know  whom  I  am  to  marry  ?  "    Delphine 
went  on,  after  a  moment. 

Katey  considered.  "  0,  Delphine,  it  isn't  that  old 
young  man?" 

"  Yes,  it  is,  and  I  am  sure  you  will  like  him." 

Katey  only  uttered  a  deep  sigh,  without  speaking. 
Then,  aroused  to  fresh  wonder,  "  Does  he  know  it  ?  " 
she  asked. 

"  0,  yes  ;  "  and  again  Delphine  laughed. 

"  Are  you  sorry  ?  "  continued  Katey,  remembering 
the  tears  upon  Delphine's  cheeks. 

"  No,  only  that  I  shall  have  to  go  away  from  you 
all ;  "  and  the  tears  sprang  to  Delphine's  eyes. 


90  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

A  cold  horror  crept  over  Katey.  "  Not  to  heaven  ?  " 
she  whispered. 

"  0,  no,  but  I  shall  go  away  to  live  at  Robert's 
home  ;  and  that  is  a  long  distance  from  here  —  four 
hundred  miles,  at  least." 

"  0,  dear  !•"  wailed  the  child. 

"  There,  don't  cry."  Delphine's  cheerful  nature 
began  to  assert  itself  at  sight  of  Katey's  woe.  "  You 
will  come  and  make  me  long  visits.  Perhaps  some 
day  you  may  live  with  me  ;  who  knows  !  Then  you 
shall  have  a  pretty  little  room  all  to  yourself- — not  at 
all  like  this  ; "  arid  she  glanced  about  rather  disdain- 
fully upon  the  heavy  furniture,  which  had  seen  its 
best  days.  "  But  lie  ,down  and  close  your  eyes  now  ; 
it  is  time  we  were  both  asleep:" 

She  rose  as  she  spoke,  and  shut  the  moonlight  out 
of  the  room.  Other  questions  crowded  Katey's  brain 
confusedly,  but  were  never  formed  into  words,  for 
already  the  little  feet  were  close  upon  the  borders  of 
dream-land. 

The  next  morning,  however,  her  interest  and  curi- 
osity awoke  with  the  day.  "  "When  are  you  going  to 
be  married  ? "  she  asked,  as  she  brushed  out  the 
tangles  in  the  short  black  locks. 

"  I  don't  know  —  in  a  few  weeks,"  Delphine  replied. 
"  Mother  says  it  is  a  very  short  acquaintance,  but  then 
we  know  all  about  the  family." 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  'em  ?  "  asked  Katey. 

"  I  mean  how  fine  a  family  it  is,"  Delphine  replied. 
"  And  0,  Katey,  you  don't  know  how  honorable  he  was ! " 

As  Katey  certainly  did  not,  and  had,  moreover,  no 
idea  as  to  the  meaning  of  the  word,  she  contented 
herself  with  looking  exceedingly  responsive,  being 
much  flattered  by  Delphine's  unusual  confidence. 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  91 

"  Ho  talked  with  mother  before  he  said  a  word 
to  me." 

"  Why,  Delphino  Earle,"  exclaimed  the  child,  "  he 
was  in  the  parlor  with  you  a  long  time  before  you 
went  up  stairs  to  call  mother.  I  was  hiding  in  the 
hall,"  she  added,  as  corroborating  evidence. 

"  But  he  had  been  here  before,  when  neither  you 
nor  I  was  at  home." 

The  breakfast  bell  interrupted  their  conversation. 
Delphine  paused,  as  she  Was  leaving  the  room,  to  say, 
"  Ho  is  coming  to  tea  to-night.  You'll  be  a  go'od  little 
girl,  will  you  not  ?  and  appear  as  well  as  you  can  ;  for 
his  people  are  all  quite  fine." 

"Are  they  coming?"  Katey  was  aghast  at  the 
prospect. 

"  0,  no  ;  but  he  would  be  likely  to  tell  them  about 
you." 

"  I  don't  think  much  of  tell-tales,"  was  Katey's 
severe  response. 

"  0,  dear  !  "  sighed  Delphine,  in  despair,  looking 
down  at  the  little  figure  standing  composedly  before 
the  glass,  pulling  out  the  sombre  folds  of  its  gown, 
and  knowing  full  well  of  what  unexpected  develop- 
ments the  child  was  capable.  "  Listen  to  me,  Katey," 
she  said ;  "  I  want  him  to  like  my  little  sister,  do  you 
see?  and  that  is  why  I  asked  you  to  try  to  appear  well." 

"  And  so  I  will,"  Katey  replied,  warmly  ;  "  I'll  be  a 
beautiful  girl." 

When  she  pushed  open  the  heavy  street  door  at 
night,  the  tones  of  a  strange  voice  came  out  to  her 
from  the  parlor.  Robert  Estemere,  Delphine's  lover, 
had  come,  then,  already.  At  that  moment  Delphine 
descended  the  stairs.  There  was  a  fleck  or  two  of 


92  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

yellow-white  lace  about  the  neck  of  the  green  pongee, 
above  which  rose  the  fair  face  flushed  and  happy,  and 
lit  by  shining  eyes.  And  as  she  came  she  hummed  a 
little  song. 

"  Is  that  you,  Katey  ?  "  checking  the  song.  "  Bun 
away,  dear,  and  make  yourself  nice."  Then  she 
passed  on,  and  the  parlor  door  closed  after  her. 
Katey  ran  up  the  stairs  with  the  bright  vision  still 
before  her  eyes.  She,  too,  would  be  fine  to  honor 
their  guest.  She  tossed  the  little  brown  bonnet  into 
the  corner  of  the  room,  and  began  a  search,  among  the 
heavy  drawers  and  in  the  depths  of  the  great  ward- 
robe, for  something  with  which  to  adorn  herself. 
Suddenly  she  remembered  Delphine's  curls.  At  least 
she  could  dress  her  hair  in  an  unusual  way  ;  and, 
filled  with  prophetic  delight,  she  brought  out  a  curl- 
ing-iron, and  lit  one  of  the  candles  in  the  tall  candela- 
brum on  the  mantel,  making  all  the  pendent  prisms 
jingle  like  bells. 

What  though  she  burned  her  fingers  and  streaked 
her  forehead  with  queer  hieroglyphics  in  her  efforts  ? 
Even  when  the  first  curl  vanished  from  before  her 
eyes  in  fire  and  smoke,  as  do  the  genii  in  fairy  tales, 
she  was  neither  discouraged  nor  dismayed.  The 
final  result  was  a  succession  of  droll  little  stiff  points 
standing  out  at  every  conceivable  angle,  as  though 
she  had  adorned  her  head  with  tenpenny  nails. 
"  Won't  he  be  s'prised  ?  "  she  thought,  viewing  them 
admiringly  in  the  glass  before  proceeding  to  array 
herself  in  a  last  summer's  gown  of  some  bright  hue, 
which  had  caught  her  eye  as  she  explored  the  re- 
cesses of  the  wardrobe.  Very  scant  it  was  in  every 
particular,  requiring  a  herculean  effort  of  the  little 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  93 

fingers  to  make  the  refractory  hooks  and  eyes  join 
hands.  No  amount  of  pulling  could  lengthen  the 
sleeves  or  prevent  a  deep  flounce  of  white  from  show- 
ing below  the  skirt.  This  she  essayed  to  remedy  by 
means  of  a  couple  of  pins,  transforming  herself  into 
a  ballet-dancer,  but  a  ballet-dancer,  alas !  who  had 
forgotten  her  white  slippers.  Even  then  the  back 
breadths  of  the  skirt  could  not  be  reached  by  the  hur- 
rying, trembling  fingers,  startled  as  she  was  by  the 
unexpected  sound  of  the  tea  bell ;  but  the  ornamenta- 
tion of  her  head  also  had  been  only  in  front ;  "  and 
people  always  sit  with  their  backs  to  the  wall,"  she 
thought,  so  it  did  not  much  matter.  Though  how 
very  fortunate  it  was  that  it  'should  be  so !  There 
were  no  bounds  to  her  ingenuity,  nor  indeed  to  her 
desires,  as  she  hastily  searched  among  Delphine's 
treasures,  conscious  that  her  own  were  not  equal  to 
the  occasion,  nor  suited  to  the  grand  scale  of  her  prep- 
arations. Her  time  being  limited,  she  contented  her- 
self with  a  showy  scarf,  crossed  upon  her  proud  littb 
bosom,  and  fastened  by  an  enormous  brooch,  which, 
upon  the  diminutive  figure,  had  much  the  effect  of  a 
moderate-sized  breastplate.  Thus  bristling  about  the 
head,  and  tolerably  shielded,  armed,  and  equipped  for 
conquest,  she  was  ready  to  descend  ;  filled  with  an  ec- 
static joy,  a  thrilling  sense  of  delight  at  the  result  of 
her  efforts,  in  the  midst  of  which  struggled  the  one 
thought  of  «  Won't  he  be  s'prised  ?  "  Of  that  she  had 
no  doubt. 

She  reached  the  parlor  door.  She  opened  it  with 
assurance,  and  moved  stiffly  into  the  room  ;  shuffling 
forward  in  a  way  intended  to  hide  her  dusty  shoes, 
remembered  now  for  the  Jirst  time.  Jack  had  already 


94  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

been  presented  to  the  stranger,  and  taken  refuge  in  a 
corner.  Her  mother  had  risen  from  her  chair  pre- 
pared to  lead  the  way  out  to  tea.  Delphine  and  her 
lover  were  half  hidden  behind  the  heavy  curtains  of 
one  of  the  windows.  The  opening  door  caused  every 
one  to  turn. 

"  Good  Heavens  !  "  exclaimed  Delphine,  involunta- 
rily, as  the  strange  little  figure,  with  its  face  tattooed 
like  that  of  a  South  Sea  Islander,  paused  a  moment 
before  advancing.  At  the  same  instant  a  suppressed 
shout  burst  from  Jack's  corner.  An  awful  pause  suc- 
ceeded, in  the  midst  of  which  the  strained  fastenings 
of  the  gown  began  to  give  way  with  a  noise  like  the 
discharge  of  musketry.'  Jack  started  from  his  seat. 
Delphine  laughed  aloud. 

"  Child !  what  have  you  done  to  yourself? "  ex- 
claimed her  mother. 

Poor  Katey  !  She  looked  from  one  to  another  with 
great  beseeching  eyes,  in  which  the  tears  were  slowly 
gathering,  as  her  mother  led  her  hastily  from  the 
room. 

"  I  don't  know  what  to  do  with  you,"  Madam  Earle 
said,  in  a  puzzled  tone,  trying  not  to  laugh,  as  the 
mortification  and  grief  of  the  child  gathered  into  sobs. 
She  hesitated.  The  guest  must  not  be  neglected. 
"  I  think  you  had  best  go  to  bed.  Chloe  shall  bring 
you  some  supper  presently.  There,  don't  cry,  dear  ;  " 
and  kissing  the  little  tattooed  forehead,  she  returned 
to  the  parlor,  while  Katey  climbed  the  stairs  with  far 
different  emotions  from  those  with  which  she  had  de- 
scended a  few  moments  before. 

It  was  Jack  who,  with  much  clatter  and  rattle,  and 
imminent  peril  to  his  burden,  sought  her  a  little  later, 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  95 

a  supper  tray  in  hand.  She  was  lying  upon  the  bed 
in  all  her  despised  finery,  sobbing  as  though  her  heart 
would  break.  "  0,  Jack !  isn't  it  dreadful  ?  He'U  tell 
all  his  folks,  and  they're  beautiful  people." 

"  No,  he  won't,"  returned  Jack,  consolingly,  setting 
down  the  tray  at  an  alarming  angle. 

"  Yes,  he  will ;  Delphine  said  so,"  persisted  Katey, 
refusing  to  be  comforted. 

"  He  isn't  such  a  fellow  as  that,  I'm  sure,"  Jack 
went  on.  "  He's  going  to  rig  my  ship  after  tea." 

"  Is  he  ?  "  Katey's  tears  ceased  to  flow.  «  That  will 
be  real  nice.  But  0,  Jack !  JVe  got  to  go  to  bed  !  " 

"  No,  you  needn't.  Mother,  only  said  so,  because 
she  didn't  know  what  else  to  do  with  you.  My !  " 
as  Katey  sat  upright,  inspired  with  hope  at  this. 
"  Well,  you  are  a  picture  ! "  The  problem  was  almost 
beyond  Jack's  skill.  He  regarded  her  doubtfully  for 
a  moment.  "  Suppose  you  wash  your  face,  and  comb 
out  that  top-knot,  and  put  on  the  clothes  you  always 
wear ;  you  might  come  down  and  slip  into  the  parlor, 
and  no  one  would  notice  you." 

Katey  turned  her  head  upon  one  side  doubtingly. 

"  I'll  tell  them  not  to,"  Jack  burst  out,  ignoring  his 
bashful  fears  by  a  mighty  effort. 

"  Will  you  ?  0,  you  are  the  goodest  Jack !  "  and 
Katey  intercepted  his  retreat  by  throwing  her  arms 
about  his  neck. 

"  Well,  don't  choke  a  fellow,"  said  Jack,  struggling 
to  get  free,  inwardly  pleased  that  his  efforts  were  ap- 
preciated, yet,  boy-like,  determined  not  to  show  it. 
"  Mind,  no  fol-de-rols  this  time,"  he  added,  sharply, 
from  the  door. 

"  0,  no,"  Katey  replied,  with  awful  solemnity.  "  I 
shouldn't  think  of  such  a  thing." 


96  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Half  an  hour  later,  a  little  brown  figure  stole  down 
the  stairs,  and  lingered  in  the  hall,  where  a  summer 
wind  blew  rustling  leaves  in  at  the  open  door,  with  the 
sound  of  a  street  organ,  and  the  jingle  of  a  tambourine. 
After  a  while,  when  the  music  and  the  tinkle  of  the 
bells  sounded  far  away,  Katey  crept  towards  the  par- 
lor. No  one  noticed  her ;  no  one  looked  up  or  greeted 
her.  Delphine.  before  the  old  piano,  touched  soft 
chords  with  gentle  fingers,  the  breeze  lifting  the  cur- 
tains behind  her,  and  stirring  her  hair.  Madam  Earle 
sat  in  the  shadow,  her  head  turned  away,  and  resting 
upon  her  hand.  Jack's  round,  freckled  face  was  close 
to  the  blazing  lamp,  disputing  possession  with  the 
moths  that  flew  dizzily  about,  while  he  watched 
every  movement  of  his  new  friend,  under  whose 
skilful  fingers  the  rigging  of  the  ship  went  on.  Soon 
Delphine  left  the  piano.  Katey  ventured  to  draw  near, 
and  even  Madam  Earle  at  last  joined  the  circle,  and 
the  evening,  begun  so  inauspiciously,  had  a  very 
pleasant,  and  even  merry  ending,  after  all. 

Delphine's  wedding  followed  before  many  weeks  — 
the  first  break  in  the  family.  But  the  little  rift  once 
made,  how  it  widens  as  the  years  go  by !  They  were 
very  peaceful,  uneventful  years  which  settled  down 
upon  the  old  house  after  Delphine's  sunny  presence 
left  it,  the  happiest  years  of  all  —  those  which  tempt 
no  one  to  write  their  history.  One  by  one  they  fell 
softly,  each  covering  the  last  with  forgetfulness. 
Katey 's  odd  freaks  and  fancies  passed  out  of  mind,  as 
they  were  toned  down  by  the  touch  of  womanhood. 
For  Katey  was  growing  to  be  a  woman.  Jack  had 
arrived  at  man's  estate  already.  Have  we  dwelt  too 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  97 

long  upon  the  child,  and  the  people  who  moved  in 
and  out,  and  formed  a  part  of  her  daily  life  ?  Many, 
perhaps  the  most  of  them,  were  but  accessories  to 
the  picture,  but  lay  figures  —  in  however  strong  a 
light  they  were  placed  at  the  time.  In  the  days  of 
our  great- grandmothers,  when  it  was  the  fashion  to 
transmit  one's  portrait  to  his  or  her  descendants,  it  was 
not  the  face  alone,  however  grand  or  sweet  it  might 
be,  which  found  a  place  upon  the  canvas.  There  was  a 
shimmer  of  soft  silk,  a  fall  of  yellow  lace,  a  bit  of  mar- 
ble pavement  under  the  impossible  feet,  the  back  of 
an  old  carved  chair,  the  projecting  corner  of  a  cabinet 
surmounted  by  an  antique  vase,  or  possibly  an  open 
door  or  window,  and  a  smooth  stretch  of  lawn,  with 
the  towers  of  a  castle  in  the  distance.  All  these  were 
not  —  and  yet  they  helped  to  make  up  —  the  portrait 
of  a  lady.  And  so  Katey's  early  surroundings  and 
associations  may  serve  in  some  measure  to  show  the 
child-nature  which  was  the  same  to  the  end.  Years 
will  strengthen  or  soften,  they  can  never  utterly  de- 
stroy. In  a  few  words,  we  may  gather  up  the  threads 
of  these  years  before  we  pass  on. 

Sad  days  came  at  last  to  the  old  house  where  the 
mother  began  to  fade  away ;  imperceptibly  at  first, 
not  losing,  only  failing  to  gain,  with  the  gathering 
years.  Gradually  Katey  assumed  her  cares,  until  she 
bore  them  all,  with  a  burden  of  dread  heavier  than 
care.  She  was  alone ;  Jack  had  gone  to  be  agent  for 
some  stone  quarries  in  which  Delphine's  husband  held 
an  interest.  She  was  doubly  alone ;  Jack  had  Josie 
Durant,  —  for  the  boyish  fancy  grew  and  strengthened, 
and  he  had  won  her  promise  now,  —  Delphine  had  her 
husband  and  child ;  but  to  Katey  was  left  only  the 
7 


98  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

mother,  who  was  slipping  away  now.  0,  to  know  this, 
at  last,  beyond  all  comfort  of  doubting ;  to  feel  that 
strong  hands  could  not  hold  her,  that  neither  prayers 
nor  tears  could  avail;  to  have  the  awful  sense  of 
walking  day  after  day  in  the.  valley  of  the  shadow  of 
death,  with  feet  heavy  and  sore,  and  eyes  blinded  by 
crying ;  to  grope  in  the  midst  of  thick  darkness ;  to 
stretch  out  the  hands  and  grasp  nothing;  to  know 
that,  somewhere,  into  this  darkness,  the  dear  form 
would  presently  vanish  where  she  could  not  follow  ! 

She  knew  that  around,  above,  beneath,  were  the 
everlasting  arms  ;  but  in  those  days  they  seemed  to 
her  to  enclose  only  the  happy.  Then  came  the  last 
hour,  the  last  word,  the  last  trembling  breath  —  and 
the  darkness. 

But  the  Light  shineth  in  darkness. 

The  old  house,  with  all  its.  tender  associations, 
passed  into  the  hands  of  strangers.  It  passed  from  the 
face  of  the  earth  and  the  sight  of  men  years  ago  ;  but 
the  loving  memory  of  the  place  rests  in  the  heart  of 
one  woman  to-day.  Cliloe  sought  and  found  a  new 
home,  and  Delphine  claimed  Katey  for  her  own,  bear- 
ing her  away  to  her  own  home  in  a  distant  city. 

"  Perhaps  you  will  live  with  me  some  day,"  she  had 
said  once  to  assuage  Katey's  childish  grief;  little 
dreaming  that  the  words  would  prove  a  prophecy, 
fulfilled  a  dozen  years  later,  through  more  bitter  tears 
than  those  which  had  wet  the  little  face  at  the  pros- 
pect of  Delphine's  marriage. 

It  had  been  autumn  and  winter  while  the  mother 
was  passing  away  —  the  very  season  taking  on  some- 
thing of  the  gloom  and  heaviness  of  the  sad  young 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  99 

heart  that  waited  and  watched  so  helplessly.  The 
spring  bloomed  out  in  Delphine's  city  home  like  a 
promise  of  happier  days.  Hope,  and  even  joy,  will 
return,  though  we  think  they  are  banished  forever ; 
and  the  late  summer  of  that  year  brought  to  Katey,  if 
not  flowers,  yet  a  certain  freshness,  and  something 
like  bloom,  which  showed  that  life  was  not  meant  to 
be  so  dreary  and  forlorn  as  she  had  believed  it  would 
be  only  a  little  time  before. 


100  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

DACBE  HOME. 

AGAIN  the  autumn  and  the  winter  passed  by,  and 
Katey  had  become  accustomed  to  the  new  life, 
which,  in  its  ease  and  luxury,  was  so  unlike  the  old,  but 
which  must  always  hold  one  place  unfilled.  They  had 
come  down  to  the  sea,  Mrs.  Estemere,  Katey,  and 
Launce,  Delphine's  boy,  a  long  way  from  their  city 
home,  to  spend  the  summer  months.  The  Durants  had 
taken  a  house  close  by,  just  across  the  gravelly  car- 
riage-way and  strip  of  lawn  dotted  with  flower  plots 
which  ran  before  the  cottages,  —  in  the  last  of  which 
they  were  domiciled,  —  from  the  hotel  to  the  cliff.  It 
was  a  hot,  breathless  morning,  with  the  sun  hanging 
like  a  globe  of  fire  over  the  shining  sea  and  glistening 
sands.  Katey  had  descended  late,  to  find  Delphine 
already  gone  for  her  bath.  Calamity,  the  colored 
waiter  from  the  hotel,  had  brought  in  the  breakfast, 
and  was  making  the  coffee  now  in  the  little  butler's 
pantry,  out  of  the  toy  dining-room.  She  ^pulled  up 
the  blinds,  and  seated  herself  before  the  table  set  out 
in  the  bay-window,  which  framed  a  picture  shifting  as 
the  views  of  a  magic  lantern.  A  straggling  honey- 
suckle branch,  crowded  with  blossoms,  barred  her 
vision,  while  beyond,  below  the  cliff,  the  yellow  sand 
stretched  out  far  as  the  eye  could  see,  alive  with 
bathers. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  101 

Some  one  ran  hastily  up  the  steps  from  the  beach, 
and  passed  the  window.  It  was  Delphine  in  a  pink 
morning-dress,  her  hair  twisted  up  loosely  under 
her  wide-rimmed  hat,  but  falling  in  damp,  crinkling 
waves  down  upon  one  cheek.  Fresh  and  sweet  to 
look  at  as  a  young  girl,  she  was,  though  she  had  been 
wife  and  mother  for  a  dozen  years  or  more  now. 

"  Whom  do  you  think  I  met  this  morning  ?  "  She 
stood  before  the  table  eating  strawberries  from  the 
glass  dish  encircled  with  cool,  green  leaves,  just  be- 
fore her,  picking  them  up  one  by  one  with  her  pink- 
tipped  fingers.  How  did  Katey  know  ?  The  Russian 
minister,  perhaps,  in  his  drosky,  after  whom,  in  any 
other  place  but  this,  where  common  things  only  were 
strange  and  unlooked-for,  the  boys  would  have  run  in 
the  street ;  or  Mrs.  Colonel  Cuyler,  with  her  hideous 
black  dwarf  in  the  rumble  of  her  phaeton ;  or  — 

"  Dacre  Home  !  " 

"  Ah  !  "  but  Katey's  face  showed  only  a  passing  inter- 
est. "  Here  is  Calamity  with  the  coffee.  Was  ever 
misfortune  more  welcome  ?  " 

"But  you  remember  him?"  persisted  Mrs.  Este- 
mere,  when  she  had  unloosed  the  little  silk  scarf, 
tying  her  hat  under  her  chin,  and  was  seated  opposite 
her  sister. 

"  0,  yes  !  "  There  flashed  upon  Katey's  mind  a  rec- 
ollection of  the  morning  when  she  ran  down  Poplar 
Street,  followed  by  poor  quaking  Ben,  when  Dacre 
stood  upon  the  steps  ove£the  way,  and  saw  him  enter 
the  great  gate  after  her.  He  told  of  it,  she  knew. 
It  was  he  who  informed  the  officers.  That  was  a 
dozen  and  more  years  ago ;  but  again  she  was  thrilled 
with  indignation  at  the  thought.  "  How  childish  ! " 


102  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

she  added,  in  a  moment,  to  herself.  "  It  was  probably 
accidental,  after  all.  I  suppose  I  should  hardly  know 
him  now,"  she  said,  aloud.  "  He  went  away  to  school 
when  we  were  both  quite  young,  and  I  never  chanced 
to  meet  him  afterwards." 

"  I  am  sure  you  would.  I  recognized  him  at  once," 
Delphine  rejoined,  hastily.  She  was  evidently  pleased 
by  this  unexpected  meeting.  "  And  I  asked  him  to 
call." 

Katey  laid  down  her  fork.    "  How  could  you  ?  " 

"  How  could  I  avoid  it  ?  Besides,  I  was  thoroughly 
glad  to  see  him.  We  knew  him  when  we  were  chil- 
dren. It  was  for  you,  dear.  What  do  you  mean  ?  I 
thought  you  would  be  pleased."  Then  she  drew  a 
frightened  breath,  'and  stared  at  the  innocent  blos- 
soms that  had  thrust  their  pink  faces  in  at  the  open 
window.  "  I  fear  I  ought  not  to  have  asked  him,  after 
all.  What  have  we  heard  ?  What  were  the  stories  ? 
Some  affair  at  college  —  " 

"  He  never  finished  his  course,  I  believe,"  Katey  re- 
plied. "  He  was  expelled,  or  left  under  suspicion.  I 
don't  know  the  story ;  I  could  not  ask  Jeanie,  but  there 
was  something." 

"  Then  what  did  he  appear  to  me  for  ! "  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Estemere,  in  real  vexation.  "  Why  do  such  peo- 
ple always  come  up  when  you  least  expect  them,  and 
have  had  no  time  to  decide  upon  how  they  ought  to 
be  received  ?  " 

"  Very  likely  you'll  neverfce  him  again,"  suggested 
Katey,  consolingly. 

"  0,  yes,  I  will ;  I  shall  meet  him  the  first  time  I 
leave  the  house ;  and  he  will  call,  I  know.  I  saw  it 
in  liis  face.  He  seemed  quite  overcome  by  the  invi- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  103 

tation.  Poor  fellow  !  I  suppose  nobody  is  glad  to  see 
him.  Perhaps  it  is  not  so  bad,  after  all.  Such  stories 
are  always  exaggerated,"  she  added,  anxious  to  find 
some  point  of  comfort  in  what  appeared  now  an  awk- 
ward dilemma.  "  But  I  cannot  allow  you  to  meet  him  ; 
not,  at  least,  until  I  learn  something  more.  And,  as 
you  say,  we  may  never  see  him  again." 

At  night  Calamity  came  down  from  the  hotel  with  a 
steaming  kettle  in  one  hand,  and  a  plate  of  toast 
wrapped  in  a  napkin  in  the  other,  running  back  for 
the  butter  and  a  dish  of  berries,  with  which  he  marked 
his  course  the  length  of  the  carriage  way,  and  again 
for  the  shrimps  and  cresses.  The  bustle  was  over  at 
last,  the  tea  served,  the  tea-things  cleared  away,  and 
Katey  had  gone  up  to  her  room  to  write  a  note  to 
Jack.  She  would  run  over  to  Josie  Durant's,  and  en- 
close it  in  her  semi- weekly  letter  presently  when 
it  was  finished.  She  was  writing  the  last  word 
when  she  heard  a  step  outside  upon  the  gravel,  then 
a  voice,  and  a  movement  down  below  upon  the  veranda. 
She  sprang  up,  urged  by  curiosity ;  the  letter  upon 
her  knee  fluttered  down  to  the  floor.  But  she  was 
too  late  ;  the  roof  of  the  veranda  screened  the  visitor 
from  her  sight,  whoever  he  might  be.  She  had  not 
recognized  his  voice,  but  Delphine  would  send  for  her 
if  it  were  one  of  the  many  acquaintances  whom  the 
pretty  mistress  of  the  little  buff  cottage  had  gathered 
about  her  here. 

It  must  be  Dacre,  Katey  thought,  when  the  hot, 
still  twilight  settled  into  a  breathless  darkness,  and 
yet  no  summons  came.  She  groped  about  in  vain  for 
a  light.  Where  was  Dobry  —  Delphine's  maid?  She 
had  forgotten  to  leave  a  candle.  She  found  her  way 


104  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

at  last  to  the  open  window  again.  Something  slipped 
under  her  foot.  It  was  the  note  to  Jack.  Josie  would 
mail  her  letter  without  it  now,  believing  she  had  not 
written.  It  was  a  pretty  little  cottage,  this  which 
they  had  taken  for  the  summer  —  all  gables,  and  dor- 
mer-windows, and  cream- colored  peaks  and  points, 
glaringly  bright,  and  dazzling  under  a  midday  sun. 
But  to-night,  with  no  breeze  from  the  sea,  the  cham- 
bers were  hot  and  stifling,  and  it  was  double  torment 
to  be  shut  up  like  a  prisoner  here  throughout  the 
whole  long  evening. 

Mrs.  Estemere  looked  in  on  her  way  to  bed. 

"  What,  still  in  the  dark,  Katey  ?  This  is  quite  too 
bad.  Where  is  Dobry  ?  " 

"  Then  it  was  Dacre  ?  "  And  Katey  stepped  out  of 
the  shadows  into  the  circle  of  light  from  the  candle 
in  Delphino's  hand. 

"  Yes ;  and  you  might  have  come  down,  after  all. 
Still,  I  am  not  sorry,"  she  added,  thoughtfully,  seem- 
ing to  drop  out  of  the  present  moment  into  the  past 
hour  again,  of  which  Katey  had  heard  only  the  mur- 
mur of  voices.  "  He  has  told  me  a  great  deal  about 
himself;  and  I  think  he  has  been  abused." 

"  Perhaps  so."  Katey  spoke  indifferently.  She 
knew  nothing  of  the  story.  Still  her  prejudices  were 
against  him.  Something  within  her  rose  up  and  joined 
his  accusers. 

"  He  is  coming  again,"  Delphine  said,  as  she  was 
leaving  the  room.  "  That  is,  if  he  does  not  go  away 
at  once."  Then  she  set  down  her  candle,  and  kissed 
Katey  good  night.  And  a  new  chapter  had  begun 
already  in  Katey's  life,  though  she  knew  nothing  of  it. 

The  summer  twilight  was  like  a  story  —like  a  beau- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  105 

tiful  old  story  read  to  the  accompaniment  of  music, 
with  the  great  far- spreading,  luminous  sea  before  the 
eyes,  and  the  dull,  hushed  noise  of  the  surf  rolling  in 
upon  the  ear,  as  though  some  fearful  dragon  of  ancient 
times  lay  bound  and  moaning  upon  the  shore.  Strag- 
gling carriages,  filled  with  gayly  dressed  people, 
toiled  home  across  the  sands.  Young  men  and 
maidens  trooped  by  along  the  cliff —  an  endless  pro- 
cession. Year  after  year  the  sea  heard  a  story  more 
beautiful  than  that  of  the  twilight  —  whispered  softly 
or  shouted  aloud  by  happy  voices,  shrill  and  gay  ;  the 
story  of  youth,  and  love,  and  summer  time.  The 
voices,  the  forms,  the  faces  may  change  ;  but  the  story 
will  go  on  while  the  world  stands  and  the  sea  crouches 
upon  the  shore  to  listen. 

Katey,  tall  and  slight,  and  holding  up  her  white 
gown,  caught  here  and  there  with  black  ribbons, 
stepped  out  from  the  veranda.  The  little  strip  of 
lawn  was  wet  with  dew,  which  might  have  blown  in 
from  the  sea,  so  salt  it  was ;  the  Cupid's  bow  set  in 
the  grass  flamed  with  scarlet  geraniums. 

"  Allow  me,  if  it  is  a  nosegay  you  want,"  said  a 
young  man  who  had  followed  her,  moving  languidly 
down  the  steps.  But  Katey  was  already  bending 
over  the  flowers.  "  Don't  disturb  yourself,  Mr.  Vose. 
I  was  looking  for  heliotropes ;  but  there  are  none,  I 
see  ;  "  and  she  rose  again.  Some  one,  coming  up  from 
the  cliff,  turned  at  the  sound  of  her  fresh,  sweet  voice 
—  a  young  man  whose  eyes  met  hers.  Dark  eyes 
they  were,  set  tolerably  near  each  other  in  a  dark, 
smooth  face.  For  an  instant  she  stood  quite  still, 
holding  the  white  drapery  about  her,  some  recollec- 
tion struggling  in  her  mind,  the  darkening  space  be- 


106  KATHERINE   EARLE. 

hind  her,  the  bright  flowers  at  her  feet ;  then  he  had 
raised  his  hat  and  passed  on.  Delphine  was  right ; 
she  knew  him  now  ;  it  was  Dacre  Home,  though  for  a 
moment  his  face  had  been  strange  to  her.  But  where 
had  he  been  ah1  this  time  ?  A  week  had  passed  since 
ho  came  to  win  Mrs.  Estemere's  good  opinion.  He 
was  evidently  in  no  haste  to  follow  up  his  victory. 

Katey  was  down  before  Delphine  the  next  morning. 
What  was  this  upon  her  plate  ?  —  a  loose  knot  of 
wet,  heavy-scented  heliotropes.  "  Mr.  Vose,"  she 
said.  And  yet  he  was  not  accustomed  to  be  abroad 
at  such  an  early  hour,  she  knew.  Calamity  came 
shambling  in  from  the  pantry  at  her  call,  ducking  his 
head  by  way  of  obeisance. 

"A  young  gem'man  passin'  de  winder  when  I's 
settin'  out  de  table  lay  it  jus'  dar,"  he  explained. 

"  For  Mrs.  Estemere  ?  " 

"  No ;  for  de  young  lady  —  for  you,  missy." 

"  Some  one  of  the  gentlemen  up  at  the  hotel,  I  sup- 
pose. Which?" 

"  No,  missy ;  a  strange  gem'man.  I  nebber  seen 
him  'fore,  shore's  I  lib.  A  young,  dark-like  gem'man." 

The  flowers  dropped  out  of  her  hand. 

Dacre  had  heard  her  remark,  then,  the  evening  be- 
fore. How  impertinen,  to  come  to  the  window  I  She 
rose  and  took  hold  of  the  tassel  of  the  shutter-cord. 
The  string  caught ;  it  fell  with  a  crash  at  last,  "  Don't 
leave  it  so  again ;  I  am  sure  it  is  not  safe,"  she  said, 
and  passed  on  into  the  little  drawing-room  to  wait  for 
Delphine. 

"How  nice  it  was  of  him!"  Mrs.  Estemere  ex- 
claimed, when  Katey  had  told  the  story,  even  to  the 
chance  encounter  of  the  night  before. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  107 

"  I  think  it  was  impertinent,"  Katey  replied.  She 
remembered  him  as  a  boy,  with  his  haughty,  super- 
cilious ways.  How  he  had  looked  down  upon  and 
scorned  them  all  then  !  That  time  was  as  fresh  and 
vivid  to  her  mind  as  when  they  lived  it.  Why  had  he 
come  now  to  act  a  different  part  ?  Circumstances  had 
changed,  but  they  had  not  changed.  Dobry  came 
down  with  Launce,  and  they  passed  out  to  the  break- 
fast-table. It  was  Mrs.  Estemere,  who  gathered  up 
the  despised  flowers  at  last,  put  them  in  water,  and 
set  them  out  in  the  drawing-room.  "  Why  should  it 
not  be  ?  "  she  had  said  to  herself,  thinking  of  Katey 
and  Dacre,  and  looking  far  into  the  future  with  a 
woman's  hasty  catching  at  possibilities. 

Ho  had  won  upon  her  sympathies,  —  by  no  means  a 
difficult  matter  of  attainment,  for  Delphine  was  tender- 
hearted and  unsuspicious ;  he  was  undeniably  well- 
born, as  we  Americans  reckon  good  birth,  having  had 
a  grandfather  of  whom  it  was  safe  to  speak  even  in 
polite  society.  His  family  had  prospered  and  in- 
creased in  wealth  since  the  old  days  in  Poplar  Street, 
where  their  name  was  remembered  now  to  point  more 
than  one  story  of  success  ;  he  had  been  wild  and  reck- 
less in  his  life,  —  but  though  she  said  the  words  to 
herself,  the  blessed  innocence  of  the  woman's  mind 
clothed  them  with  but  vague  meaning,  —  still  he 
would  turn,  he  would  change,  and  he  had  only  to  re- 
pent to  bo  received,  like  the  prodigal  son,  with  music 
and  dancing,  with  feasting  and  gifts,  in  his  father's 
house.  And  when  all  these  results  were  brought 
about,  what  could  be  more  desirable  for  Katey,  who 
was  growing  restless  under  her  idle,  unaccustomed 
life,  and  was  planning  even  so  soon  to  go  away  and  do 


108  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

for  herself.  Proud,  foolish  Katey!  who  could  not 
take  even  from  Delphine  and  Jack,  dearly  as  she  loved 
them,  what  they  were  only  too  happy  to  bestow  upon 
her. 

The  wind  changed  towards  night.  The  sky  shut 
down  upon  the  sea,  and  the  fog  came  driving  in,  heavy 
and  thick.  Down  upon  the  shore  the  dragon  roared 
and  chafed  at  his  chains.  The  beach  was  deserted, 
the  cliff  bare  of  strollers,  as  Katey  sprang  out  of  the 
low  phaeton  at  the  door  of  the  cottage,  her  pretty 
violet  gown  drenched,  her  hair,  heavy  and  damp,  fall- 
ing upon  her  neck,  her  arms  filled  with  great  creamy 
lilies.  The  drive  across  the  country,  with  the  wet 
wind  in  her  face,  had  brought  a  new  light  to  her  eyes, 
a  new  deep  red  to  her  cheeks.  "  Good  night,"  called 
Josie  Durant,  gathering  up  the  reins,  and  turning  the 
heads  of  her  ponies.  Josie's  gown,  gray  and  glistening, 
held  its  own,  despite  the  fog  —  her  hair,  too,  bound  up 
tight  and  smooth,  knew  no  change.  Our  very  outward 
adorning  takes  on  something  of  our  inner  nature,  and 
Josie,  calm,  unruffled,  self-contained,  would  have 
passed  through  a  fiery  furnace  unscathed.  So  it 
seemed  to  poor,  foolish,  impulsive  Katey,  who,  from 
gown  to  heart,  reflected  every  beam  of  sunshine  about 
her,  or  was  wrapped  in  every  cloud. 

Some  one  rose  as  she  paused  in  the  drawing-room 
door,  her  hat,  with  its  wreath  of  lilies,  sliding  down  to 
her  feet.  "Ah!"  she  gasped.  She  was  not  nice 
for  company.  That  was  her  first  thought.  Her  hat, 
in  its  descent,  had  caught  the  comb  which  held  her 
hair.  "  Sabrina  !  "  Dacre  uttered  under  his  breath. 
"  You  remember  Dacre,  I  am  sure,"  was  Delphine's 
more  commonplace  greeting,  trying  to  put  them  upon 
familiar  terms  at  once  by  this  frank  use  of  his  name. 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  109 

Katey  answered  coldly,  bowing  formally  as  she 
passed  on,  at  which  Delphine  stared.  It  is  hard 
when  one  has  arranged  a  play,  and  begins  to  pull  the 
strings,  to  find  that  the  puppets  throw  out  an  arm  in- 
stead of  a  foot,  or,  worse  still,  turn  their  backs  upon 
each  other.  But  to  Katey  it  was  a  charade,  in  which 
she  was  to  improvise  her  own  part,  only,  unfortunate- 
ly she  and  Delphine  had  not  chosen  the  same  word. 
There  was  an  awkward  moment,  then  Dacre  excused 
himself  and  went  away. 

"  Why  did  you  do  so  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Estemere,  when 
he  had  gone.  "  Why  should  you  not  be  kind  and 
pleasant  to  him  ?  " 

"Why  should  I?"  Katey  replied,  with  a  jarring 
chord  in  her  voice ;  "  he  was  anything  but  kind  and 
pleasant  to  us  when  we  were  children." 

"  Good  gracious  Katey !  You  don't  mean  that  you 
have  laid  anything  by  to  bring  up  against  him  after  all 
these  years?"  Delphine  looked  at  her  as  though 
Katey  had  developed  the  spirit  of  a  Lucretia  Borgia. 

"  No,"  Katey  replied,  slowly.  "  But  I  wish  he  would 
go  away." 

"  I  am  afraid  that  is  a  very  wicked  spirit,"  said  Mrs. 
Estemere,  severely.  Her  quickly  devised  scheme 
seemed  toppling  to  the  ground  already. 

"  I  don't  know ;  I  don't  wish  him  any  harm,  I  am 
sure,"  Katey  replied,  in  a  softer  voice.  "  I  should  be 
glad  to  know  he  was  doing  well.  But  I  should  prefer 
it  to  be  a  great  way  off."  Then  she  laughed,  bending 
over  Delphine,  and  giving  her  a  kiss.  "  It  is  silly  and 
childish,  I  know,"  she  added,  "  and  I'll  do  differently 
another  time,  since  you  wish  it." 

"  Perhaps  there  will  not  be  another  time,"  replied 


110  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Delphine,  rather  coldly.   "  His  stay  is  extremely  un- 
certain.    He  said  to-night  that  he  ought  to  go." 

"  Then  why  don't  he  ?  "  Katey  rejoined,  quickly. 
"  I'm  sure  we  are  not  keeping  him." 

"  He  has  other  friends  here,  I  presume." 
"  Very  likely  ; "  and  then  Katey  went  on  arranging 
her  lilies,  and  nothing  more  was  said  of  their  visitor. 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  \\\ 


CHAPTER  X. 

WHERE  MORE  IS  MEANT   THAN  MEETS  THE  EAR. 

BUT  Dacre  did  not  go.  The  days  passed  on,  heavy, 
yet  sweet,  like  the  scent  of  tropical  flowers,  —  idle 
summer  days  beside  a  summer  sea,  —  and  Katey  met 
him  continually  —  sometimes  as  they  rolled  along  the 
wide,  smooth  avenue,  themselves  no  insignificant  part 
of  the  brilliant  pageant  spread  out  here  upon  a  bright 
afternoon ;  sometimes  as  they  came  like  mermaids  out 
of  the  sea ;  or  more  often  in  the  twilight,  when  they 
sat  in  unpremeditated  state  to  receive  their  visitors, 
enthroned  in  the  bright  red  chairs  upon  the  veranda. 
Ho  was  always  alone.  Where  are  the  friends  for 
whom  he  has  staid  ?  Katy  thought,  wondering  not  a 
little  over  his  forlorn  appearance.  But  at  sight  of 
them  his  dark  face  would  brighten  for  the  moment, 
the  cloud  of  discontent  or  ill-humor  being  dispelled  by 
Delphine's  cheerful  greeting.  Katey  was  still  chary 
of  her  smiles.  He  seemed  to  her  like  a  dark  spot 
upon  the  beautiful  landscape.  "  1  think  he  is  unhap- 
py," Delphine  said.  But  Katey  believed  that  he 
moped  ;  and  to  mope  when  one  is  young  and  strong 
seemed  to  her  the  height  of  folly,  if  not  of  sin.  Often 
he  lingered  for  a  moment  beside  them  ;  then  she  would 
try  to  bo  gracious,  remembering  her  promise  to  Del- 
phine, but  utterly  failing  in  the  attempt.  Her  manners 


112  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

had  not  yet  hardened  into  the  crust  which  wo  all 
wear  later  in  life.  So  far,  every  emotion,  every  pre- 
judice would  show  through. 

"  You  do  not  like  me,"  he  said,  boldly,  one  night, 
finding  her  upon  the  veranda  alone. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  "  she  replied ;  then,  frightened  at 
herself,  she  added,  quickly,  "Why  should  I  not?" 

"  I  commend  your  wisdom,"  —  and  he  threw  himself 
down  upon  the  steps  at  her  feet,  — "  but  I  wish  you 
would." 

He  quite  forgot  the  connection  between  his  sen- 
tences, as  he  raised  to  her  the  face  which  appeared 
almost  boyish  in  the  softening  light.  There  was  a 
laugh  upon  his  lips ;  but  the  depth  and  pleading  of  his 
eyes  gave  it  the  lie. 

Katey  stared,  the  warm  color  flying  into  her  face. 
This  was  not  at  all  as  the  young  men  she  had  met  were 
accustomed  to  address  her.  "I  —  I  am  sure  I  wish 
you  well,"  she  said,  hesitatingly,  and  with  a  quaver  of 
embarrassment  in  her  voice.  It  was  a  stiff,  old-fash- 
ioned sentence,  and  sounded  prim  and  strange  in  her 
own  ears ;  but  the  words  were  the  first  which  came 
to  her. 

"  So  you  do  your  bitterest  enemy,  I  suppose,"  he 
replied.  "  Only  you  can  have  no  enemy,  I  know,"  he 
added,  gently. 

Then  Delphine  appeared,  with  a  nutter  and  sweep 
of  soft  muslin  and  lace,  and  Katey  breathed  again. 
But  he  bent  over  her  hand  when  he  rose  to  say  good 
night.  "  We  are  to  be  friends  ;  you  are  not  angry  ?  " 
he  asked  in  a  low  voice. 

"  0,  no,  no,"  Katey  replied,  hurriedly,  drawing  her 
hand  away.  What  if  Delphine  should  see  ?  Which 
question  had  she  answered  ?  She  hardly  knew. 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  113 

They  sat  here  until  the  darkness  enveloped  them 
and  the  stars  twinkled  down :  but  Katey  did  not  tell 
Delphine  what  had  passed  between  Dacre  and  herself. 
And,  indeed,  was  there  anything  to  tell  ?  But  the  ice 
in  her  heart  had  begun  to  melt.  What  were  his 
boyish  pride  and  superciliousness,  that  she  should  have 
remembered  them  all  these  years  ?  she  thought,  re- 
proaching herself  that  night,  when  she  was  taking  off 
her  ornaments  and  letting  down  her  hair.  Once, 
during  the  evening,  Dobry  had  passed  the  open  door 
with  a  lamp  in  her  hand  ;  the  flaring  rays  of  light  had 
fallen  upon  his  face.  How  sad  it  was  !  Katey  forgot 
that  she  had  said  he  moped,  as  she  gave  him  a  sigh 
from  the  depths  of  her  gentle  heart.  Yes,  the  ice 
was  beginning  to  melt. 

This  marked  the  commencement  of  a  new  order  of 
events.  He  began  now  to  appear  at  the  cottage  at  all 
hours  of  the  day,  and  some  which  verged  upon  the 
night.  He  leaned  over  the  sill  of  the  low  bay-window, 
and  drank  coffee  with  them  in  the  morning.  He  fer- 
reted out  an  old  guitar  from  some  dingy  shop  in  the 
town,  and  sang  quaint,  weird  songs  in  the  twilight  to 
a  low  accompaniment,  which  set  strange  chords  to 
vibrating  in  Katey's  heart ;  he  walked,  and  rode,  and 
bathed  in  their  company  ;  he  became,  in  more  senses 
than  one,  Katey's  shadow.  But  she  made  use  of  every 
innocent  artifice  to  avoid  meeting  him  alone.  What 
might  he  not  say  ?  After  that  first  evening  all  dread- 
ful possibilities  seemed  open  to  him.  She  had  had  no 
experience  with  lovers.  She  did  not  even  question 
in  her  own  mind  if  it  were  love  he  meant,  though  she 
was  so  shy  of  meeting  him  ;  and  yet,  after  a  time,  she 
was  conscious  of  a  bond  between  them. 
8 


114  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  You  will  do  this,  I  know/'  he  said,  one  day,  asking 
some  slight  favor,  worthless  in  itself. 

"  Why  will  I  ? "  and  Katey  opened  her  great  eyes 
upon  him. 

He  bent  over  the  fastening  of  her  glove.  "  Be- 
cause—0,  I  don't  know;  I  wish  you  would."  And 
she  did  it. 

She  was  a  foolish  Katey.  So  she  confessed  to  her- 
self a  little  later,  when  the  bond  had  strengthened 
more  and  more,  and  held  her  like  a  chain.  Delphine, 
seeing  the  play  go  on  after  her  own  heart,  rejoiced  in- 
wardly, looking  farther  into  the  future  than  Katey, 
who  hardly  realized  that  her  feet  were  snared,  so 
pleasant  was  the  land  about  her. 

"  You  do  not  wish  him  to  go  away  now,  —  to  do 
well  a  long  way  off?  "  she  said,  archly,  one  day.  The 
temptation  to  triumph  over  the  success  of  her  little 
scheme  was  too  great,  for  the  moment,  to  be  resisted. 

Katey's  brown  cheek  flamed  crimson.  "  I  wish  —  I 
don't  know  what  I  wish." 

She  rose,  hurriedly,  and  went  out  of  the  room.  "What 
did  Delphine  mean  ?  What  was  it  all  —  the  summer, 
the  strange  charm,  and  yet  pain,  which  had  stolen  into 
her  life  ?  How  would  it  end  ?  For  the  summer  was 
almost  over.  Only  a  few  days  more,  and  they  would 
go  their  several  ways  —  Delphine  back  to  her  city 
home,  she  to  try  her  own  strength,  which  seemed 
feeble  enough,  as  the  time  drew  near.  Reluctantly, 
Delphine  had  given  her  consent,  and  Katey  had  sought 
and  found  a  position  in  a  school  —  three  hundred  miles, 
at  least,  from  Delphine's  home.  Even  Jack's  unwill- 
ing sanction  had  at  last  been  gained.  She  was  to 
leave  before  the  others.  And  Dacre  ?  How  little  she 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  115 

knew  of  his  life  !  Why  did  she  doubt  him  so  at  times  ? 
Where  would  he  go  ?  Should  she  ever  see  him  again? 
As  the  time  drew  near  when  they  were  to  separate, 
his  manner  became  more  and  more  strange  and  va- 
riable, his  moods  beyond  all  comprehension.  "  I  am 
a  wretch,  Katey,"  he  said,  one  day,  in  so  humble  and 
hopeless  a  tone  that  Katey's  tender  heart  was  touched 
with  pity  for  the  warm-hearted,  wayward  boy,  whom 
nobody  welcomed,  as  Delphine  had  said,  and  whom 
nobody  tried  to  save.  What  was  the  cloud  which 
hung  over  him  ?  If  she  only  dared  ask  !  Could  it  be 
that  there  was  something  in  his  past  life  which  he 
shrank  from  telling  —  something  which  haunted  him, 
and  yet  of  which  he  could  not  speak  ?  To  Katey, 
whose  innocent  history  was  like  a  chained  book  in  an 
old  chapel,  the -leaves  of  which  any  one  might  turn  at 
will,  the  thought  was  too  dreadful  to  be  entertained. 
Who  were  his  friends  and  associates  ?  Even  Delphine 
confessed  that  she  Uad  failed  to  learn.  Certainly  he 
had  none  here  save  themselves.  "  But  ho  will  go 
home  now,"  Mrs.  Estemere  said,  to  ease  her  mind  of 
a  sharp  doubt  as  to  the  wisdom  of  the  intimacy  she 
had  fostered  and  encouraged  ;  "  he  will  go  home  to  his 
father's  house."  It  was  only  a  few  days  before  that 
he  had  spoken  of  it. 

Dacre  and  Katey  strolled  on  up  the  narrow  streets 
of  the  old  town.  "  Yes,  I  am  a  wretch,"  ho  repeated. 
It  seemed  as  though  ho  would  say  more ;  but  ho 
checked  himself. 

"  One  would  think  you  had  broken  all  the  command- 
ments." Katey  spoke  lightly,  but  there  was  an  anx- 
ious tone  in  her  voice. 

"  I  believe  I  have  forgotten  what  they  are,"  he  re- 
plied, with  a  little  bitter  laugh. 


116  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"Don't,"  said  Katey;  "it  hurts  me  to  hear  you 
speak  so." 

Some  one  turned  the  corner  in  their  faces  at  that 
moment  —  a  gentleman,  not  young,  as  girls  of  twenty 
reckon  youth,  of  medium  height,  squarely  built,  with 
a  strong,  frank  face,  shaded  on  either  side  by  a  heavy, 
red-brown  beard.  A  pair  of  keen  gray  eyes,  under  a 
heavy  forehead,  were  fastened  for  an  instant  upon 
Katey's  pained,  anxious  face,  with  its  frame  of  pretty, 
dark  hair  and  soft,  violet  ribbons.  Ah,  he  thought,  is 
it  so?  reading  a  story  in  the  sweet,  girlish  counte- 
nance, which  wore  no  mask.  As  his  glance  passed 
quickly  to  Dacre,  his  forehead  gathered  into  a  frown ; 
he  almost  checked  his  steps ;  then  he  half  bowed,  and 
passed  on. 

Katey,  too,  had  made,  involuntarily,  a  movement  to 
stop.  "  Who  was  it  ?  "  she  asked,  startled  into  forget- 
fulness  of  what  had  gone  before.  "  He  recognized  you. 
I  thought  he  was  going  to  speak." 

But  Dacre  had  been  too  much  absorbed  to  notice. 
"I  don't  know;"  and  he  looked  back,  carelessly. 
"  More  likely  it  was  you  who  caught  his  eye.  I  only 
wonder  he  passed  on." 

Katey  did  not  smile  over  the  flattery  implied  in  his 
words.  She  was  lost  in  thought.  She  was  haunted  by 
the  expression  of  the  man's  face.  Why  had  he  scowled 
upon  Dacre  ?  Delphine  said  the  world  had  judged  him 
harshly.  How  or  why,  Katey  had  never  asked.  So 
the  world  looked  coldly  upon  him !  She  had  never  re- 
alized what  that  could  mean  until  now,  when  she  felt 
her  face  grow  hot.  She  laid  her  hand  timidly  in  his 
arm.  "  I  believe  I  am  tired,"  she  said,  by  way  of  ex- 

CUriO. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  117 

His  face  brightened  at  once.  The  unhappy  mood 
vanished  like  the  sudden  disappearance  of  a  morning 
fog.  They  went  on  up  the  tortuous  streets  and  broad, 
shaded  avenues,  and  he,  at  least,  was  gay  as  though  no 
care  or  regret  had  ever  rested  on  him. 

He  left  her  at  Josie  Durant's  door.  But  Josie  had 
gone  over  to  Mrs.  Estemere's  cottage ;  so  Katey  walked 
slowly  home  across  the  lawn,  saddened  in  spite  of  her- 
self, and  full  of  vague  fears.  Perhaps  it  was  an  old, 
childish  habit  revived ;  perhaps  it  was  one  of  those 
strange  premonitions  which  no  one  can  explain ;  but 
foremost  in  her  mind  at  this  moment  pressed  the  ques- 
tion, What  will  Jack  say  ? 

As  if  to  answer  for  himself,  he  met  her  face  to  face 
as  she  stepped  upon  the  veranda.  He  had  arrived 
while  she  was  out.  Dear  old  Jack  !  The  freckles  were 
gone  now ;  the  forehead  was  broad,  and  whiter  than 
Katey's  where  the  short,  dark  curls  shaded  it.  The 
eyes  still  glinted  like  sparks  of  fire.  Katey's  heart 
warmed  with  pride  and  pleasure  at  sight  of  him.  He 
seized  and  kissed  her  with  affectionate  roughness,  and 
drew  her  through  the  long,  open  window,  into  the 
pretty  little  drawing-room,  where  Delphine  sat  alone. 

"  What  is  this  about  your  going  away  so  soon  ? " 
he  asked. 

"  I  don't  know,  only  I  am  going  to-morrow,"  Katey 
replied. 

"  Nonsense  !  "  Jack  was  still  chary  of  words  ;  but 
there  is  force  as  well  as  wit  in  brevity. 

"  So  I  tell  her,"  Delphine  hastened  to  add ;  though, 
in  truth,  Delphine  had  never  uttered  so  brief  a  sen- 
tence. "  It  is  a  foolish  whim ;  I  supposed,  of  course, 
she  would  stay  with  us  until  she  married." 

"  But  if  I  shouldn't  marry?  " 


118  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"Everybody  marries,"  Delphine  replied,  "except 
women  with  spheres,  and  those  who  are  born  to  be 
old  maids." 

"  I  wonder  if  Elsie  Bird  was  born  to  be  an  old 
maid,"  said  Katey,  thoughtfully.  "Delphine,  how 
lovely  she  was  in  spirit  and  in  all  her  ways  !  " 

"  Her  lover  died,  I  believe,"  Delphine  answered. 

Jack  had  thrown  himself  into  an  easy-chair,  and  lit 
a  cigar  ;  for  the  cosy  little  drawing-room  was  smoking- 
room  as  well,  unbounded  liberty  being  the  rule  in 
Delphine's  home. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  Katey,"  he  broke  in  now, 
"  don't  be  a  woman  with  a  sphere,  or  I'll  disown  you." 

"  I  have  no  desire  to  be  a  woman  with  a  sphere," 
returned  Katey,  "  and  I  have  been  very  happy  with 
Robert  and  Delphine,  and  I  should  like  to  come  and 
stay  with  you  and  Josie  by  and  by,  I  am  sure,  only  I 
should  like  to  do  something  for  myself  first.  Do  let 
me  try  it  for  a  little  while.  Delphine  has  been  too 
kind.  I  do  nothing  but  dress,  and  fold  my  hands,  and 
try  to  look  pretty,  and  I  believe  I  am  tired  of  it.  I 
want  to  do  a  bit  of  real  hard  work,  as  —  as  I  used  to," 
she  added,  with  a  little  quaver  in  her  voice^  thinking 
of  the  old  home  and  the  cares  which  had  rested  upon 
the  girlish  shoulders. 

"  Well,  but  why  can't  you  work  here  ?  "  persisted 
Jack.  "Where  are  all  the  fol-de-rols  women  busy 
themselves  about?  Where's  your  sewing?" 

"  Delphine  puts  out  our  dresses,  and  the  seamstress 
in  the  house  does  the  rest.  I  do  sew,  just  to  make 
myself  busy  sometimes ;  and  sometimes  I  arrange  the 
drawing-room,  though  she  says  one  of  the  servants 
could  do  it  as  well.  Jack,"  —  Katey  turned  upon  him 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  119 

suddenly, — "  how  should  you  like  to  saw  wood,  for  in- 
stance, simply  for  the  sake  of  doing  something,  when 
no  one  wanted  the  wood  ?  " 

"  Wouldn't  do  it,"  returned  Jack.  Then  removing 
his  cigar,  "  But  some  one  always  does  want  the  wood. 
You  can  give  it  away,  you  know." 

"  Yes,"  assented  Katey,  slowly.  "  And  I  could  work 
for  charity,  I  suppose.  But  —  I  can't.  I  don't  feel 
called.  I  don't  know  any  poor  people,  and  I  don't  en- 
joy societies;  I  cannot  attend  meetings  —  women's 
meetings,  I  mean.  Perhaps  I  am  wicked,  but  I  want 
to  laugh  always.  And  as  for  holding  an  office  —  " 

"  But  some  one  is  obliged  to,"  interrupted  Del- 
phine,  who  was  herself  vice-president  of  a  benevolent 
society. 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  replied  Katey,  "  but  they  enjoy  it. 
They  feel  it  a  duty  as  well,  but  they  like  it.  Indeed, 
that  is  one  sign  of  a  true  call  to  any  work,  I  think ; 
and  I  haven't  it,  Jack  —  I  haven't  it  at  all."  And 
Katey,  upon  the  hassock  at  his  feet,  clasped  her  hands 
around  her  knees  in  childish  fashion,  and  turned  so 
sorry  U  face  to  him  with  this  confession,  that  Jack 
laughed  aloud.  The  idea  of  Katey  sitting  gravely  in 
committee,  or  presiding  over  a  meeting  of  any  kind, 
was  too  absurd  to  be  considered. 

Delphine,  however,  viewed  the  matter  more  seri- 
ously. "  But  you  need  not  attend  societies  in  order 
to  exercise  charity,"  she  said.  "  There  is  Janie  Home, 
who  visits  regularly  the  families  in  the  lower  part  of 
the  village  where  she  has  gone  to  Jive ;  sees  that  their 
houses  and  their  families  are  neat,  and  — 

"  What  impertinence  !  "  exclaimed  Katey.  "  Think 
of  walking  into  people's  houses  without  right  or  invite- 


120  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

tion,  and  advising  in  family  affairs,  simply  because 
their  doors  are  narrower  and  dirtier  than  ours  1 " 

Jack  laughed  again. 

"  It  is  so ;  is  it  not?  "  Katey  went  on,  appealing  to 
him.  "  I  took  Delphine's  place  one  week  last  winter, 
and  went  with  one  of  her  friends  down  through  the 
back  streets  of  the  town  as  a  visiting  committee.  We 
were  to  ring  each  bell,  and  call  upon  every  family  if 
possible,  find  out  if  they  attended  church,  and  if  their 
children  were  in  Sunday  school.  I  don't  know  how 
the-  others  proceeded,  but  I  apologized  at  every  door 
for  the  intrusion,  and  felt  that  it  was  only  natural 
and  just,  when  a  tall,  raw-boned  woman  barred  our 
'entrance  to  one  house,  and  said,  with  a  kind  of  enraged 
self-respect, '  An'  what  if  I  don't,  miss  ? '  in  answer  to 
our  question." 

"  But  you  should  not  have  done  so,"  said  Mrs.  Este- 
mere.  "  I  always  make  some  excuse,  or  ask  permission 
to  go  in.  Then  I  speak  to  the  children,  give  them 
candy,  and  if  there  is  a  pot  of  flowers  or  a  print  to 
ornament  the  room,  notice  that,  and  so  gradually  ap- 
proach the  object  of  my  visit." 

"  But  Delphine,  dear,  what  if  a  stranger  should  walk 
into  your  drawing-room,  admire  Launce,  feed  him  with 
chocolate- creams,  which  you  know  always  make  him 
ill,  criticise  your  Gdrome,  comment  upon  the  weather, 
and  crown  all  with  a  modest  hope  that  you  were  using 
these  blessings  without  abusing  them,  and  were  fitting 
yourself  for  another  and  better  world,  saying  that  it 
was  to  express  this  hope  she  had  called  !  I  am  sure 
you  would  ask  the  servant  to  show  her  the  door." 

"  But  that  is  different,"  laughed  Delphine.  "  They 
do  not  often  resent  our  visits." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  121 

"  Then  ^they  can  have  no  self-respect,"  persisted 
Katey. 

Delphine  shook  her  head.  "  It  may  be  so  some- 
times," she  said,  "but  we  often  find  poor,  forlorn, 
broken-spirited  creatures,  who  are  only  too  glad  to 
hear  a  kind  word  from  any  one." 

"  Yes,  perhaps  so,"  assented  Katey,  slowly,  remem- 
bering at  least  one  such  experience  of  her  own. 

"  I  shall  yet  boast  of  my  sister,  who  is  laboring 
among  the  heathen,"  laughed  Jack,  pinching  Katey's 
ear. 

"  0,  never,"  she  replied,  gravely.  "  I  am  not  good 
enough,  and  I  am  ashamed  to  say  I  do  not  feel  drawn 
towards  the  heathen  —  that  is,  foreign  heathen,"  she 
added,  remembering  Dacre.  "  I  am  only  a  little  rest- 
less and  proud,"  she  went  on,  with  a  laugh.  "  I  want 
to  do  something  for  myself.  So  Robert  and  Delphine 
say  I  may  try.  I  wrote  you  about  the  advertisement, 
and  Robert  went  to  La  Fayette  to  see  the  school,  and 
use  his  influence  to  gain  the  position  for  me.  I  am 
engaged  to  teach  the  younger  children,  and  I  go  to- 
morrow," she  concluded,  with  a  quick  gasp,  which 
might  have  been  due  to  breathlessness  after  her  hur- 
ried speech,  or  fright  at  the  prospect  so  near. 

"You  are  not  fit  to  take  care  of  yourself,"  was 
Jack's  final  comment.  "You'll  do  something  foolish 
or  unheard  of  away  off  there." 

"  O,  no,"  said  Katey,  quickly.  She  was  much  more 
likely  to  do  so  if  she  remained  here,  she  thought. 
What  would  he  say  if  he  knew  about  Dacre  Home  ? 
If  she  only  dared  tell  him  !  And  yet,  what  was  there 
to  tell  ? 

Delphine  mentioned  Dacre's  name  casually  as  they 


122  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

were  going  out  to  tea.  "  What  is  he  doing  here  ?  " 
said  Jack,  sharply,  making  Katey's  heart  cease  to  beat 
for  the  moment.  0,  how  thankful  she  was  that  he  had 
not  come  before  !  Or  did  she  wish  that  Delphine  and 
she  had  never  been  left  to  themselves  ? 

Josie  Durant,  who  had  staid  to  tea,  gave  her  a  sharp 
little  glance  as  Jack  uttered  the  question,  to  which  no 
one  replied.  Launce,  hanging  upon  his  mother's  chair, 
would  have  spoken,  but  Delphine  checked  him.  This 
was  not  the  time  to  open  the  subject,  she  saw,  and  she 
let  it  pass. 

Katey  felt  Josie's  glance  as  she  bent  over  her  plate. 
Josie's  clear  little  head  had  taken  in  everything, — 
Delphine's  scheme,  Katey's  doubt  and  hesitation,  and 
surrender  at  last,  —  though  there  had  been  no  confi- 
dence between  Katey  and  herself.  How  could  there 
be  when  there  was  no  sympathy  ?  Miss  Durant  had 
disapproved  of  it  all  from  the  first.  She  would  have 
interfered  if  she  had  dared ;  but  she  was  not  yet  one 
of  the  family,  and  how  could  she  set  herself  in  oppo- 
sition to  Delphine,  or  act  the  part  of  a  tale-bearer,  and 
write  to  Jack  ? 

There  was  to  be  a  gathering  of  their  summer  friends 
at  the  Dr.rants'  that  evening,  too  informal  to  be  called 
a  party,  though  there  would  be  music  and  dancing, 
and  Josie  had  offered  to  return  and  spend  the  night 
with  Katey,  who  chafed  against  it  all  —  this  last  even- 
ing !  And  Dacre  would  not  be  at  the  party.  All 
through  the  summer  Miss  Durant  had  quietly  ignored 
him.  He  had  received  no  invitation,  Katey  knew,  and 
she  had  said  nothing  to  him  of  the  engagement  for  the 
evening.  Should  she  see  him  again  ?  The  train  she 
was  to  take  left  at  an  early  hour  in  the  morning  — 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  123 

almost  at  daybreak.  Even  if  he  came  to  the  cot- 
tage to-night,  it  might  be  only  to  find  her  gone,  or, 
more  dreadful  still,  to  meet  Jack  face  to  face.  It  was 
a  relief  to  see  Jack  cross  the  lawn  with  Josie  while 
she  still  lingered  over  her  toilet.  Delphine  followed 
them  presently.  "  You  will  come  over  soon,  I  sup- 
pose," she  called  to  Katey ;  "  I  have  promised  Josie 
to  help  her  arrange  some  flowers."  She  had  marked 
Katey's  nervous  manner,  and  divined  something  of  the 
truth.  She  quaked  inwardly,  remembering  the  tone 
of  Jack's  voice  when  she  had  mentioned  Dacre's  name ; 
but  it  was  too  late  to  go  back  now.  She  would  give 
them  one  more  chance  to  meet,  and  she  hastened  over 
to  the  Durants'  cottage  strong  in  the  determination  to 
keep  Jack  well  employed  for  the  next  hour,  so  that  he 
should  have  no  opportunity  to  return  for  Katey. 


124  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XL 

PITY'S  AKIN  TO  LOVE. 

THE  pale  violet  ribbons  had  been  laid  aside  ;  but 
the  scarlet  geraniums  in  her  hair  were  not  more 
vivid  than  the  red  on  Katey's  cheek,  as  she  stood, 
fluttering  and  faint-hearted,  just  within  the  open  win- 
dow, when  they  had  all  gone,  listening  to  every  step 
upon  the  gravel  before  the  door.  Perhaps  he  would 
not  come.  It  would  be  better  for  her,  she  knew,  if  he 
never  came  again.  A  spasm  of  sense  and  reason  had 
seized  her  in  the  midst  of  the  excitement  of  the  mo- 
ment. And  yet  she  waited. 

He  came  at  last.  She  ran  down  the  stairs  to  meet 
him.  He  must  not  stay.  It  would  not  do  for  Jack  to 
return  and  find  him  here  —  Jack,  who  was  hot-headed 
and  rash,  and  would  say  —  she  knew  not  what.  Dacre 
had  heard  nothing  of  his  arrival.  She  told  him  now, 
as  they  stood  in  the  doorway,  showing  all  her  appre- 
hension in  her  face  as  she  made  the  announcement, 
with  a  fearful  glance  over  the  way,  whei-e  a  soft  light 
shone  from  the  open  windows  through  the  closed 
shutters.  The  high,  wide  veranda  was  peopled  with 
moving  shadows  already.  The  first  strains  of  the 
music  rose  upon  the  still  air,  mingling  with  the  gentle 
sweep  and  fall  of  the  surf  over  the  deserted  sands. 

"  I  must  go,"  Katey  said,  at  last.     "  There  is  com- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  125 

pany  at  the  other  house  ;  they  will  miss  me."  She 
offered  no  excuse  for  his  having  been  left  out.  They 
had  reached  a  point  beyond  conventionalities. 

He  walked  beside  her,  across  to  the  other  cottage. 
They  passed  the  broad  flight  of  steps  leading  up  to  the 
veranda,  and  reached  the  side  door  in  silence.  Katey 
held  out  her  hand.  It  was  to  be  like  the  parting  of 
ordinary  acquaintances,  then  ?  What  had  she  ex- 
pected ?  What  had  she  hoped  for  ?  It  was  better 
so ;  yet  something  in  her  throat  choked  the  words  she 
tried  to  say.  All  the  past  summer,  bewildering  and 
sweet,  rose  before  her  at  that  moment.  Where  would 
he  go,  from  her,  and  to  whom?  She  felt,  as  they 
stood  that  one  instant  with  clasped  hands  in  the  soft 
darkness,  the  laughing  voices  coming  out  to  them 
through  the  closed  shutters,  —  they  two  alone  —  that, 
beyond  the  shadows  enveloping  them,  an  awful  gulf 
yawned  and  waited  for  him.  0,  if  she  could  but 
hold  him  back ! 

He  bent  his  head  as  she  stood  above  him,  and  laid 
his  cheek  upon  her  hand.  So  like  a  boy  he  was! 
Would  nobody  try  to  save  him  ? 

"  It  is  only  '  good  by,'  Katey ;  "  and  there  was  a 
strange,  hoarse  tone  in  his  voice.  "I  like  you  too 
well  to  say  anything  else.  I  ought  to  have  gone  be- 
fore ;  I  knew  it  all  the  time." 

His  lips  touched  her  hand.     Then  she  was  alone. 

"  Dacre  1  "  Her  voice,  shrill  and  sharp,  rang  out 
into  the  night.  In  a  moment  he  was  beside  her.  "  0, 
where  are  you  going  ?  What  will  become  of  you  ?  " 

She  had  forgotten  the  open  windows.  Some  one 
pulled  up  a  blind.  "  I  thought  I  heard  a  cry,"  said 
a  voice.  He  drew  her  into  the  shadow  of  the  door- 


126  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

way  as  Josie  Durant  leaned  out  to  listen.  "  It  is  noth- 
ing," .Miss  Durant  said,  calmly,  addressing  some  one 
behind  her,  and  dropping  the  blind  noisily.  But  Katey 
knew  that  she  had  seen  them. 

There  was  a  general  movement  within.  It  was  only 
the  cessation  of  the  momentary  stillness,  but  to  Katey 
the  voices  drew  near.  "  They  are  coming ;  I  must 
go,"  she  exclaimed  in  a  frightened  whisper. 

He  caught  her  in  his  arms.  "  Katey  !  Katey !  I 
shall  come  to  you  —  I  shall  see  you  !  "  Then  he  was 
gone. 

The  music  had  begun  again  when  she  entered  the 
drawing-room.  They  were  forming  a  set  upon  the 
veranda.  "  Where  did  you  hide  yourself? "  asked 
Jack,  leading  her  out ;  "  or  have  you  but  just  come  ? 
I  was  going  over  to  look  you  up,  but  Delphine  thought 
you  must  be  here  somewhere." 

Fortunately  there  was  a  flourish  of  trumpets  at  this 
moment;  the  dance  had  begun,  and,  in  following  its 
mazes,  with  a  lugubrious  air,  droll  to  see,  Jack  —  who 
still  hated  parties  and  everything  pertaining  to  them 
—  forgot  his  question.  It  was  a  long,  tiresome  even- 
ing to  Katey,  in  spite  of  the  music,  the  pleasant,  softly- 
lighted  rooms,  and  cheerful  company.  She  stole  away 
at  last  to  the  shelter  of  a  deep  window.  Here,  with  her 
elbow  upon  the  sill,  her  cheek  in  her  hand,  her  face 
turned  towards  the  sea,  across  which  streamed  a  faint 
line  of  light  from  the  white  moon  overhead,  she 
dreamed  her  dream  undistubed.  "  Katey  !  Katey  ! " 
she  heard  again,  above  the  gay  voices  floating  in  upon 
her,  above  the  hushed  roar  of  the  surf  which  filled 
in  every  pause.  0,  she  would  trust  him !  —  forgetting 
that  the  truest  trust  is  involuntary. 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  127 

Josie  sought  her  out.  "  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  " 
she  said.  "  Do  try  and  rouse  yourself,  Katey.  What 
will  people  think?  That  strange  gentleman  has  been 
staring  at  you  for  the  last  ten  minutes." 

"  Who  is  he  ?  "  and  Katey  forgot  her  momentary 
resentment  at  Josie's  tone,  to  stare  in  turn  after  the 
broad,  square  figure  vanishing  through  the  doorway. 
She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  a  red-brown  beard,  and 
a  pair  of  deep-set  gray  eyes.  Where  had  she  seen  them 
before  ?  Then  she  remembered.  It  was  the  gentle- 
man who  had  recognized  Dacre  Home  upon  the  street 
that  afternoon. 

"  I  don't  know,"  Josie  answered,  carelessly.  "  Some 
friend  of  the  Fosters,  I  believe.  I  have  forgotten  his 
name.  But  I  must  go  ;  I  have  to  sing." 

The  Fosters  were  already  making  their  adieus  when 
they  returned  to  the  drawing-room.  Once  more  Katey 
felt  the  searching  eyes  fixed  upon  her,  as  their  owner, 
behind  Mrs.  Foster's  broad  shoulders,  awaited  his 
turn.  It  almost  seemed  as  though  he  would  speak  to 
her.  A  shadow  of  irresolution  crossed  his  face ;  he 
turned  to  Miss  Durant ;  but  Katey  had  moved  away, 
something  very  hot  and  fierce  rising  within  her  at 
the  recollection  of  the  scowl  he  had  bestowed  upon 
Dacre.  When  she  looked  again  the  whole  party  had 
left  the  room. 

Jack  took  her  home  before  the  company  finally 
broke  up,  and  Delphino  soon  followed.  Josio  came 
later,  mounting  the  stairs  with  a  slow  step,  which 
set  Katey 's  heart  to  beating  with  apprehension.  She 
had  watched  the  lights  go  out  over  the  way  after 
the  last  guest  had  departed.  She  had  seen  the 
musicians  with  their  queer,  distorted  burdens,  steal 


128  CATHERINE  EARLE. 

out  like  robbers,  and  vanish  among  the  trees.  Even 
Jack  had  crossed  the  lawn,  and  the  odor  of  his  cigar 
came  up  to  her  now  from  below.  She  had  watched 
them  all  through  the  parted  curtains,  hoping,  yet 
hardly  daring  to  hope,  that  Josie  would  not  come, 
after  all.  But  Josie,  it  seemed,  had  only  lingered  to 
make  some  change  in  her  dress.  She  came  in  now, 
as  Katey  stood  before  the  glass  brushing  out  her 
hair,  a  little  white  sacque  tied  by  the  sleeves  loosely 
about  her  neck,  her  arms,  with  their  pretty  cream 
tint,  bare  and  raised  above  her  head,  as  she  went  on 
without  turning  from  the  glass,  shaking  out  the  heavy 
braids  into  shining  waves,  which  fell  over  her  shoul- 
ders and  about  her  face. 

"  Well,  Katey  ? "  and  Josie  threw  back  the  little 
shawl  wrapped  around  her,  and  settled  herself  in  an 
arm-chair  with  a  judicial  air.  She  did  not  intend  to 
appear  severe ;  she  even  tried  to  make  her  tone  gentle 
and  conciliatory ;  but  she  had  failed,  she  knew  as  soon 
as  the  words  passed  her  lips. 

"  Is  it  about  Dacre  ? "  Katey's  eyes  were  very 
bright  and  full  as  she  faced  her  friend. 

"  Or  say  for  thee  I'll  die  —  or  say  for  thee  I'll  die !  " 

sang  some  half-drunken  reveller,  strolling  up  from  the 
cliff.  "  I  can't  tell  you,"  she  went  on ;  "  don't  ask  me, 
please."  She  had  made  up  her  mind  while  Josie 
was  slowly  mounting  the  stairs.  She  could  not  deny 
what  her  friend  had  seen  with  her  own  eyes,  and  yet 
what  was  there  to  acknowledge  ? 

"  0,  very  well,"  Josie  replied,  coldly.  «  Of  course  I 
don't  wish  to  force  your  confidence." 

"  But  don't  look  at  me  so,"  cried  poor  Katey,  who 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  129 

desired,  like  the  most  of  us,  to  be  trusted,  even  though 
blindly.  She  stooped  suddenly,  and  kissed  her  friend. 
But  Miss  Durant  had  little  appreciation  of  enigmas, 
and  none  whatever  of  impulsive  ways.  Her  gentle 
emotions  were  all  reducible,  and  could  be  explained 
upon  fixed  principles.  "  I  don't  understand  you ;  "  and 
she  moved  away  from  Katey's  caress,  speaking  as 
though  it  were  a  matter  of  surprise  that  she  did  not, 
—  the  surprise  always  awakened  in  people  by  new 
developments  in  the  friends  they  have  weighed  and 
passed  judgment  upon,  —  a  surprise  not  unmingled 
with  displeasure,  as  though  an  unfair  advantage  had 
been  taken  of  them  by  these  untimely  revelations. 
But  Katcy  did  not  think  it  strange.  She  by  no 
means  understood  herself.  Her  mind,  so  far,  seemed 
made  up  of  questions  which  later  years  would,  per- 
haps, answer. 

"  I  think  you  might  trust  me,"  she  said,  slowly. 

"Why,  how  can  I  when  you  tell  me  nothing?" 
exclaimed  Miss  Durant. 

"  That  wouldn't  be  trusting ;  that  would  be  know- 
ing," Katey  replied.  Then  she  went  on  brushing  out 
her  hair,  and  preparing  for  the  night,  and  nothing 
more  was  said.  She  wondered  if  Josie  would  tell 
Jack;  but  she  would  not  ask.  To  do  so  would 
appear  as  though  she  were  afraid  or  ashamed. 

The  next  morning,  when  she  leaned  out  from  the 
window  of  the  railway  car  to  exchange  last  words 
with  her  friends,  her  eyes  were  searching  the  dusky 
length  of  the  great,  dark  station,  imagining  every 
dimly-defined  form  to  be  that  of  Dacre.  He  might 
be  very  near,  if  she  did  but  know  it.  He  might  even 
be  in  the  seat  before  her.  For  in  the  darkness  no 


130  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

one  could  recognize  his  neighbor,  and  the  shooting  out 
of  the  train  presently  into  the  light  of  day  would  be 
like  unmasking  at  a  ball.  It  was  a  dull,  wet  day. 
The  rain  dripped  outside  and  overhead  upon  the  dingy 
panes  of  glass  far  up  in  the  mammoth  roof.  She 
could  not  hear  it  for  the  shrieking  of  the  trains  and 
the  hurried  tread  of  passing  feet;  but  the  figures 
huddled  together  in  the  dim  light,  half  hidden  by 
the  cloud  of  smoke  and  vapor,  which,  settling  down, 
added  to  the  gloom  of  the  place,  were  wrapped 
against  the  chill  and  wet  out  of  all  individually. 

Katey  watched  them  with  something  more  than 
idle  curiosity  as  they  darted  hither  and  thither, 
pressing  in  turn  close  to  the  windows  of  the  car, 
discerning  friends  by  some  subtle  intuition,  rather 
than  by  the  exercise  of  the  outward  senses  ;  then, 
falling  back,  to  stand  motionless,  a  solid  phalanx,  as 
the  train  moved  slowly  out  and  away.  There  were 
a  few  dim  lights  burning  through  the  cars;  some 
had  nickered  and  gone  out;  but  one  still  shone 
brightly  over  Katey's  head,  bringing  out,  like  a  pic- 
ture in  strong  colors,  the  slight  figure  bent  towards 
the  window,  wrapped  in  a  little  bright  shawl,  the 
mass  of  dark  hair  pushed  back,  the  absorbed,  question- 
ing eyes;  and  it  threw  a  line  of  light  across  the 
faces  being  left  slowly  behind,  making  strange,  un- 
expected revelations  in  the  countenances  whose  own- 
ers believed  them  hidden  still  by  the  darkness  — 
the  inner  thought  creeping  out.  And  there  were 
people  who  had  bade  their  friends  adieu  in  mock 
sorrow,  being  really  glad  for  them  to  go,  and  the 
gladness  showed  now.  And  there  was  a  lover,  who 
had  not  dared  say  all  he  wished  to  his  mistress  at 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  131 

parting ;  but  she  might  read  it  in  his  face  now  if  she 
would  only  look.  And  there  were  sorrow,  and  dis- 
appointment, and  even  anger,  if  Katey  could  have 
read  them  all.  But  she  searched  for  Dacre  alone. 
He  was  not  there,  nor  in  the  train  when  they  had 
moved  out  into  the  dull  daylight,  and  were  speed- 
ing on  their  way.  She  was  doubly  sure  when  an 
hour  had  passed,  and  still  he  did  not  appear ;  and  with 
a  sense,  if  not  of  relief,  at  least  of  cessation  of  the 
strain  of  eager,  painful  expectation,  she  curled  her- 
self into  the  corner  of  the  seat  she  shared  with  no 
one,  and  prepared  to  take  the  rest  she  needed  so 
greatly.  She  might  doze  through  all  the  long  day, 
if  she  chose  ;  it  would  be  late  in  the  afternoon  be- 
fore they  reached  the  junction  where  she  was  to 
change  cars  for  La  Fayette.  So,  with  every  tense 
nerve  relaxed,  and  her  cheek  pillowed  upon  the 
little  red  shawl,  she  sank  into  a  profound  sleep. 


132  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XH. 

NEW   ACQUAINTANCES. 

SHE  awoke  after  an  hour  or  two,  rested  and  re- 
freshed, and,  still  lying  back  in  her  corner,  began 
to  scan  the  passengers  within  the  range  of  her  vision 
with  the  curious  eyes  of  one  who  has  seen  little  of 
the  world.  They  were  all  uninteresting,  even  to  her 
active  fancy,  with  the  exception  of  a  party  just  before 
her,  and  a  jiinber-jawed  woman  in  a  black  bonnet, 
over  the  way,  who  had  come  from  New  Hampshire 
alone,  and  was  pouring  the  story  of  her  troubles  in  re- 
gard to  some  error  in  her  ticket,  as  well  as  various 
side  issues,  into  the  sympathizing  ear  of  a  question- 
able-looking young  man,  who  occupied  the  seat  before 
her.  Various  bits  of  this  confidence  floated  into  Katey's 
ears,  as  well  as  the  amused  "  Just  so,  just  so,  ma'am," 
of  the  young  man.  The  woman  had  a  flurried,  ner- 
vous manner,  and  grasped  with  both  hands  a  very 
large  paper  parcel  lying  in  her  lap  \  but  though  her 
story  went  on,  in  a  shrill,  penetrating  voice,  without 
cessation,  she  yet  eyes  had  and  ears  for  everything 
about  her,  and  was  constantly  being  overcome  with 
gratitude  for  what  she  considered  personal  favors. 
14  No,  I  thank  you,  my  dear ;  "  to  the  itinerant  ice- 
water  boy.  "  But  how  very  kind  it  was  of  him  to  think 
of  it ! "  she  soliloquized.  She  apologized  to  the  vender 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  133 

of  books  for  not  buying  his  wares,  assuring  him  that 
they  looked  "  very  pretty,  but,  you  see,  I  don't  find 
much  time  to  read,  any  way,  and  I  expect  to  be 
tolerably  busy  where  I  am  going."  She  exhausted  the 
patience  of  the  meek-faced  conductor  by  her  repeated 
questions,  assuring  him,  at  the  end  of  each  colloquy, 
that  she  had  travelled  all  the  way  from  New  Hamp- 
shire alone.  There  came  a  change,  however;  the 
meek-faced  conductor  disappeared  at  some  cross-road, 
and  an  official  of  enormous  proportions  and  a  decidedly 
military  air  took  his  place.  Ho  slammed  the  door 
after  him,  as  he  entered  the  car,  with  the  mildness  of  a 
clap  of  thunder.  He  ejaculated,  "  Tickets  ! "  like  a 
startling  sneeze.  Every  sleepy  eye  opened  wide. 
Every  hand  involuntarily  grasped  its  bit  of  pasteboard, 
offering  it  abjectly  at  his  approach.  Not  so  the  jimber- 
jawed  woman.  She  raised  her  voice  above  the  noise 
of  the  train  as  lie  drew  near,  and  began  her  story  :  — 

"  I've  come  all  the  way  from  —  " 

He  seized  her  ticket,  gave  it  a  violent  and  vicious 
punch,  thrust  it  into  her  hand  again,  and  was  half 
way  down  the  aisle  before  she  had  succeeded  in  utter- 
ing, "  New  Hampshire." 

"  Well ! "  She  stared  after  him  in  a  bewildered  way, 
straightening  the  black  bonnet,  which  had  become  dis- 
placed as  though  it  had  shrunk  back  of  its  own  ac- 
cord at  the  approach  of  this  awful  personage.  But 
she  was  neither  discouraged  nor  dismayed.  She  bided 
her  time.  He  came  again.  There  was  a  perceptible 
hush  throughout  the  car,  a  spasmodic  clutching  of 
tickets  at  that  resounding  slam  of  the  door.  Then  tho 
jimber-jawed  woman  rose  and  leaned  forward,  a  feeblo 
simper  called  up  by  some  instinct  of  feminine  con- 


134  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

eciousness  spreading  over  her  countenance.  "  Snap, 
snap  : "  the  Great  Mogul  drew  near.  She  opened  her 
mouth  as  he  turned  towards  her  with  an  outstretched, 
impatient  hand.  "I've  come  all  the  way—  Sud- 
denly he  seemed  to  swell  and  fill  the  place.  His  face 
was  awful  to  contemplate.  He  raised  one  finger. 
"  Sit  down  !  "  he  ejaculated,  in  a  voice  of  thunder ;  and 
a  confused  heap  of  black  bonnet  and  brown  paper 
parcel  dropped  speechless  upon  the  seat.  The  jimber- 
jawed  woman  was  conscious  of  the  real  presence  at 
last. 

There  was  a  hastily  suppressed  laugh  just  before 
her,  and  Katey,  turning  her  face  quickly,  was  struck 
by  a  pair  of  bright  eyes,  as  well  as  by  the  odd  appear- 
ance of  the  whole  party  J  who  had,  from  the  first,  at- 
tracted her  attention,  and  aroused  her  curiosity. 

They  were  four  in  all;  a  father,  son,  and  two 
daughters,  she  judged,  from  a  certain  resemblance 
among  them.  There  was  a  similarity  as  well  in 
their  rather  fantastic  attire ;  in  which  short,  braided 
jackets  and  knee-breeches  upon  the  men,  with  deep, 
pointed  collars  and  a  profusion  of  flowing  hair,  were 
most  conspicuous.  The  costume  of  the  two  girls  — 
one  of  whom  was  extremely  delicate  in  appearance  — 
was  not  less  singular.  Their  bright  blue  jackets  were 
more  elaborately  braided  than  were  those  of  their 
father  and  brother,  wlu'ch  were  of  a  coarser  fabric. 
Their  short  black  petticoats  just  revealed  the  neat  lit- 
tle boots,  oddly  laced  over  bright  red  stockings,  and 
their  long,  abundant  hair  was  braided,  and  hung  down 
in  a  simple  fashion,  obsolete  enough  to  have  been  re- 
marked a  dozen  years  ago. 

The  whole  party  wore  queer,  high-pointed  hats, 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  135 

from  each  of  which  hung  a  variegated  cord  and  tassel, 
and  attracted  naturally  not  a  little  attention.  The 
dreadful  conductor  alone  gave  them  no  second  glance. 

There  was  something  singularly  open  and  winning 
in  their  faces,  especially  in  that  of  the  sick  girl,  who 
had  removed  her  hat,  and  lay  back  upon  a  pillow  im- 
provised from  cloaks  and  wraps,  tenderly,  almost  anx- 
iously, watched  over  by  the  others. 

Katey  wondered  at  their  strange  appearance.  Who 
and  what  were  they  ?  Play-actors,  perhaps ;  but  cer- 
tainly no  play-actors  ever  travelled  about  in  so  strange 
a  garb.  Her  curiosity  increased  as  the  day  wore 
away  and  they  neared  the  junction  where  she  was  to 
change  cars  and  leave  her  odd  companions.  But  no  ; 
they,  too,  were  gathering  up  wraps  and  parcels  as  the 
last  station  before  the  junction  was  passed.  There 
was  a  movement  throughout  the  car  —  the  rising  and 
stretching  of  benumbed  forms,  the  hasty  gathering  of 
detached  belongings,  the  bustle  of  near  departure  or 
change ;  even  the  jimbered-jawed  woman  had  re- 
covered speech  again,  and  Katey  had  folded  the  little 
red  shawl  over  her  arm,  and  replaced  the  book  in  her 
satchel,  which  she  had  been  too  idle  to  read,  when  all 
at  once  there  came  a  strange,  jarring  shock,  throwing 
those  already  upon  their  feet  to  their  seats  again,  fol- 
lowed by  what  would  have  been  utter  suspension  of 
sound  or  motion  but  for  the  exclamations  and  confusion 
suddenly  awakened.  Katey,  recovering  herself  as  the 
crowd  pressed  by,  spoke  aloud  involuntarily :  "  0,  what 
is  it  ?  What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  There  is  no  occasion  for  alarm." 

It  was  the  little  old  gentleman  in  the  high-pointed 
hat  who  answered  her.  He  was  raising  the  sick  girl 


136  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

in  his  arms.    He  bore  her  out,  followed  by  the  others 
of  the  family,  with  whom  Katey  found  herself. 

"  She  has  fainted,"  he  said,  laying  his  charge  down 
tenderly  in  the  shadow  of  the  high  bank  beside  the 
road.  But  even  as  he  spoke  the  sick  girl  opened  her 
eyes  and  smiled  upon  Katey,  who  was  bending  over 
her.  "  It  is  nothing ;  do  not  be  alarmed,"  she  said, 
in  a  gentle  voice,  which  quite  won  Katey's  heart. 

The  young  man  of  the  odd  party  had  followed  the 
crowd  up  the  road.  He  came  back  now  to  say  that 
there  had  been  a  slight  accident,  which  would  probably 
detain  them  for  an  hour  or  two,  or  until  assistance 
should  arrive  from  the  junction. 

"  "We  are  to  stop  there,"  volunteered  the  bright- 
eyed  girl,  who  was  holding  her  sister's  hands  in  her 
own. 

"  Yes  ;  we  sing  there  to-night,"  the  little  old  gen- 
tleman added. 

"  0,"  Katey  said,  wondering  more  and  more,  espe- 
cially as  a  dim  recollection  or  some  fancied  resem- 
blance flitted  through  her  mind,  making  all  at  once 
the  strange  company  strangely  familiar.  She  sat  down 
beside  the  two  girls,  to  await  the  tardy  progress  of 
events  and  the  slow  process  of  deliverance.  This 
moment  of  fright  and  mutual  helpfulness  had  drawn 
them  together  as  such  times  will  the  most  incongruous 
elements,  until  when  the  train,  having  arrived  at  last 
from  the  junction,  moved  off,  she  still  formed  one  of 
the  odd  group  who  would,  at  another  time,  have  at- 
tracted no  little  attention,  but  were  now  scarcely 
noticed  in  the  general  excitement. 

"  You  will  pardon  me,  young  lady,"  said  the  little 
old  gentleman,  with  quaint  formality,  "  for  not  having 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  137 

properly  introduced  myself  and  my  family  ;  but  the  oc- 
casion is  unusual,  to  say  the  least,"  — to  which  Katey 
assented. 

"  These  are  my  children,"  he  went  on,  with  the  air 
of  presenting  them  to  an  audience  ;  indeed,  there  was 
something  histrionic  in  ah1  the  little  old  gentleman's 
speech  and  manner,  as  though  he  had  been  accustomed 
to  bestow  much  care  upon  both. 

Katey  murmured  something  of  having  imagined  as 
much,  as  an  affectionate  smile  was  exchanged  between 
the  father  and  his  family. 

"  You  recognize  us,  perhaps?  " 

She  was  obliged  to  own  that  she  did  not. 

"  Ah  !  "  said  the  little  old  man,  with  an  air  of  aston- 
ishment. Then  opening  his  arms  as  though  by  this 
gesture  he  were  revealing  himself  to  the  world,  "  We 
are  the  Hauser  family  !  " 

If  the  little  old  man  had  announced  his  party  as  the 
lost  Ten  Tribes,  or  the  last  of  the  Huggermuggers,  he 
could  not  have  displayed  a  prouder  or  more  self-satis- 
fied countenance. 

A  light  burst  upon  Katey's  mind.  She  had  seen 
the  name  in  staring  letters,  and  even  the  oddly-cos- 
tumed figures  pictured  upon  posters  in  the  town  where 
Delphine  resided,  though  their  simple  programme  had 
tempted  neither  Delphine  nor  herself  to  hear  them. 

"  0,  yes ;  I  remember  now,"  she  said,  really  inter- 
ested ;  "  but  I  have  never  heard  you  sing." 

"No?"  The  surprise  in  the  little  old  man's  face 
made  his  eyes  for  the  moment  quite  round.  He 
hastily  searched  in  his  pockets,  and  brought  out  at 
last  a  package  of  tickets,  soiled  and  broken ;  choosing 
the  most  presentable,  he  gave  it  into  Katey's  hand. 


138  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

11  That  will  admit  you  and  a  friend.  Yes,"  examining 
it  carefully  to  see  that  there  was  no  mistake, "  you  and 
a  friend  to  any  concert  we  may  chance  to  give  at  any 
time  in  your  life  in  any  city  of  the  world." 

Katey  hesitated  about  placing  herself  under  so  tre- 
mendous an  obligation.  But  the  little  old  man  insisted. 
"  Perhaps  you  will  favor  our  poor  performance  with 
your  presence  this  evening,  if  you  remain  at  the  junc- 
tion." 

"  0,  thank  you ;  "  she  replied,  "  I  should  be  happy  to 
do  so ;  but  I  shall  not  stay  there  —  that  is,  I  don't 
know  what  I  am  to  do.  My  name  is  Earle  —  Kathe- 
rine  Earle,"  she  added,  remembering  that  she  had 
failed  to  accomplish  her  part  of  the  introduction,  "  and 
I  was  to  have  gone  on  to  La  Fayette  to-night.  Do 
you  think  I  have  missed  the  train?" 

"  I  should  say  so,  certainly ; "  and  at  that  moment 
the  train  rushed  into  the  station.  Immediately  all  was 
confusion  about  them.  "  I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what 
I  can  do,"  began  Katey,  bewildered. 

There  was  a  whispered  consultation  among  her 
new  friends.  "  At  least  I  must  leave  the  cars,"  she 
thought,  gathering  up  her  belongings.  Some  one 
touched  her  arm.  It  was  the  little  old  man.  "  If  you 
would  come  with  us,  if  you  would  not  mind  the  —  the 
publicity  which  naturally  attends  our  movements,  we 
could  show  you  an  inn  close  by ;  not  the  finest  one  in 
the  village,  but  perfectly  respectable  and  neat.  We 
have  been  there  often  before.  The  host  and  hostess 
are  old  friends.  You  hesitate  ?  That  is  quite  right ; 
it  is  not  safe  to  trust  a  stranger,  as  I  tell  my 
daughters." 

"  But  she  may  trust  you,"  said  the  bright-eyed  girl, 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  139 

warmly,  while  Katey  tried  to  protest  that  it  was  not 
from  distrust  she  had  hesitated. 

"  How  does  she  know  it  ?  "  laughed  the  little  old 
man.  "  And,  first,  you  wish  to  find  out  about  your 
train.  Suppose  you  go  into  the  station  and  inquire 
for  yourself.  That  will  be  most  satisfactory.  The 
ticket-master  will  tell  you ;  and  you  can  ask  about  the 
Lion  Inn  at  the  same  time.  We  will  wait  for  you  ;  or, 
since  Christine  is  so  weak  and  tired,  I  will  go  on  with 
her,  and  Mina  and  Wulf  will  stay  here  until  you  re- 
turn ;  "  and  the  kind  little  old  gentleman  moved  oif 
slowly  with  the  sick  girl. 

Katey  acted  upon  his  suggestion,  and  found  that 
the  train  for  La  Fayette  had  indeed  gone.  There 
would  be  no  other  until  midnight ;  and  when  the  ticket- 
agent  had  also  corroborated  the  statement  in  regard 
to  the  Lion  Inn,  which  was  kept,  he  said,  by  a  German 
family,  but  was  neat  and  well  spoken  of,  she  decided 
to  remain  in  the  village  until  morning.  It  would  cer- 
tainly be  preferable  to  reaching  La  Fayette  at  day- 
break, with  the  chance  of  not  being  expected  at  that 
hour. 

So  she  crossed  the  open  "  green,"  or  grassy  square 
of  the  village,  with  her  odd  companions,  to  the  low 
inn,  with  its  encircling  piazza,  and  a  flaming  sign  of  a 
ferocious  lion  swinging  before  the  door.  The  piazza, 
and  even  the  hall,  with  its  combined  odors  of  smoke, 
and  beer,  and  departed  dinners,  seemed  quite  deserted ; 
but  bright-eyed  Mina  pushed  on  to  a  door  at  the  end 
of  the  passage  opening  into  what  seemed  to  be  the 
family  room,  where  a  very  old  lady  sat  knitting  in  one 
corner,  while  a  couple  of  little  girls,  with  their  thick, 
dark  locks  braided  tightly,  and  bound  around  their 


140  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

heads,  played  upon  the  floor  at  her  feet.  They  sprang 
up  with  an  exclamation  at  sight  of  Mina,  and  raised 
their  rosy  faces  to  kiss  her  warmly.  Even  the  old 
lady  rose  smiling  to  greet  her.  "  And  how  do  you  do, 
Wulf  ?  "  to  the  flaxen-haired  young  man,  who  seemed 
stift"  and  constrained  in  Katey's  presence.  Then  she 
looked  inquiringly  at  Katey. 

"  It  is  a  young  lady  who  was  going  on  to  La  Fay- 
ette  ;  the  accident  detained  her.  But  where  is  Mrs. 
Sheppart,  and  what  has  become  of  Christine  ?  " 

"  You  will  find  them  in  the  great  front  room,"  the 
old  lady  replied.  "  Poor  Christine  seems  quite  feeble." 

"  She  is  not  well ;  "  and  Mina's  face  was  clouded  for  a 
moment.  "  And  the  fright  to-day  has  made  her  more 
ill  than  usual.  I  think  we  will  go  and  find  her,"  she 
added,  to  Katey. 

Christine  was  lying  upon  the  great  high-posted  bed 
in  the  long,  low,  and  rather  barely  furnished  chamber 
to  which  they  had  been  directed,  while  the  hostess, 
a  smiling,  black-eyed  woman,  with  her  shining  hair 
braided  and  tightly  wound  around  her  head  like  that 
of  her  little  daughters,  moved  about  the  room,  closing 
the  shutters,  re-arranging  and  dusting  the  furniture, 
with  a  bustling,  cheerful  air.  "  0,  Mina !  "  she  ex- 
claimed, as  the  door  opened,  coming  forward  and  hold- 
ing out  her  round,  smooth  cheeks  for  Mina's  hearty 
kisses.  "  And  this  is  the  young  lady  Christine  has 
been  telling  me  of;  "  her  manner  changing  at  sight  of 
Katey's  tall  and  rather  stately  figure.  "  We  will  try 
to  make  you  comfortable,  miss,  but  the  house  is  likely 
to  be  full—  '  She  hesitated.  Katey  was  evidently 
out  of  the  line  of  her  usual  patrons. 

"  I  am  sure  I  shall  be  comfortable/'  Katey  hastened 
to  say. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  141 

"  I  may  have  to  put  up  a  cot  for  you  here."  Mina 
looked  at  Katey,  who  glanced  towards  Christine. 

"  0,  it  will  not  annoy  Christine  —  will  it,  dear  ?  " 
Mina  said,  quickly. 

Christine  smiled  and  shook  her  head. 

"  Then  I  should  much  prefer  it,"  said  Katey. 

"  It  would  be  so  much  nicer  to  be  together  !  "  added 
Mina,  removing  her  hat,  shaking  the  dust  from  her 
skirts,  and  performing  a  pirouette. 

"  Come,  come,"  interrupted  Mrs.  Sheppart,  seizing 
Mina  in  her  arms.  "  Christine  must  go  to  sleep,  or 
she  will  be  fit  for  nothing  this  evening.  Perhaps  you 
and  the  young  lady  would  come  down  to  the  parlor. 
I  will  open  it  for  you  ;  "  and  with  one  last  motherly 
arranging  of  the  sick  girl's  pillows,  she  left  the  room. 

Mina  and  Katey  followed  her  to  the  little  parlor  at 
the  foot  of  the  stairs,  with  its  staring  ingrain  carpet, 
and  line  of  stiff,  black  chairs  ranged  against  the  wall. 
Katey  consigned  herself  to  the  cold  charities  of  the 
hair-cloth  sofa,  while  Mina  pushed  open  the  shutters, 
and  let  the  light  strike  upon  the  great  portraits  cover- 
ing the  walls.  There  were  the  inn-keeper,  his  two 
sons,  his  wife,  his  wife's  mother,  and  the  two  little 
girls,  all  staring  down  from  very  dark,  wide,  wooden 
frames,  and  very  dark,  gloomy  backgrounds,  out  of 
exceedingly  surprised  eyes.  The  women,  portrayed 
in  very  tight  black  silk  dresses,  had  a  nipped,  shrunken 
appearance,  which  was  quite  made  up,  however,  by 
that  of  the  men,  who  seemed,  in  their  fullness,  liable, 
at  any  moment,  to  burst  from  the  canvas,  and  step 
down  in  their  own  proper  persons.  The  effect,  when 
the  light  was  let  into  the  room,  was  as  though  the 
place  had  been  suddenly  peopled. 


142  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mina,  watching  Katey's  startled  face ; 
"  it  is  as  if  they  had  all  rushed  to  a  funeral ;  is  it  not  ? 
But  I  never  tell  Mrs.  Sheppart  so.  She  likes  them. 
They  were  painted  by  an  artist  who  staid  here  one 
summer  —  to  pay  his  bill,  I  think.  But  this  is  best  of 
all."  She  opened  a  door  at  the  farther  end  of  the 
room,  put  her  head  out  cautiously,  and  then  beckoned 
to  Katey.  "  The  men  have  not  come  back,"  she  said, 
leading  the  way  into  the  bar-room.  A  kitchen-maid 
had  been  left  in  temporary  charge  of  the  place.  She 
was  leaning  across  the  bar  so  as  to  bring  her  eyes 
within  range  of  the  open  door.  At  their  appearance 
she  began  vigorously  to  polish  a  glass  with  her  apron. 
Over  her  head  hung  the  picture.  The  face  was  that 
of  the  host,  round,  rubicund,  overflowing  with  good 
nature,  his  head  surmounted  by  a  gilded  crown,  a 
crimson  robe,  edged  with  ermine,  covering  his  shoul- 
ders, and  in  his  hand,  not  a  sceptre,  but  a  brimming, 
foaming  glass  of  ale. 

"  Old  King  Cole  !  "  exclaimed  Katey. 

"  But  it  is  much  more  like  Mr.  Sheppart  than  the 
one  in  the  parlor,"  said  Mina. 

There  was  the  grinding  of  heavy  feet  upon  the  piazza 
outside,  and  the  girls  retreated  hastily.  The  hostess 
was  just  entering  the  little  parlor  from  the  other  door. 

"  I  thought,  perhaps,  you  would  prefer  to  take  your 
tea  by  yourselves,"  she  said.  «  You  will  have  more 
time  to  dress,"  she  added  to  Mina.  «  So  you  may 
come  out  now." 

"  That  will  be  nice ;  thank  you,"  said  Mina.  « I 
don't  mind,  of  course  ;  I  have  been  here  so  many 
times,"  she  went  on,  as  Mrs.  Sheppart  hastened  away, 
tearing  them  to  Mow  more  leisurely.  «  And  then  I 


/CATHERINE  EARLE.  143 

know  the  family.  But  you  are  not  accustomed  to  be 
stared  at." 

"And  are  you?"  Katey  was  amused  at  the  girl's 
frank  manner  of  speech. 

Mina  laughed.  "  0,  yes  ;  I  have  sung  and  travelled 
about  from  one  place  to  another  ever  since  I  can  re- 
member. You  don't  mind  if  the  sticks  and  stones  in 
the  street  stare  at  you?  " 

"  No ;  but  one  does  not  credit  them  with  eyes." 

"  Nor  do  people  seem  to  have  eyes  after  a  time. 
You  don't  think  anything  about  it.  You  don't  care  for 
them  at  all  j  "  and  then  Mina  led  the  way  to  the  dining- 
room. 


144  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

CAP   AND   BELLS. 

rpHE  sick  girl  did  not  come  down  to  tea ;  and  after 
-»•  a  consultation  by  her  bedside,  her  father  and 
brother  decided  that  she  was  quite  unfit  to  take  part  in 
the  evening's  entertainment. 

"  It  is  too  bad,"  said  Mina,  when,  a  little  later,  she 
and  Katey  had  returned  to  the  chamber.  Mina  was 
sitting  upon  the  floor  before  a  small  trunk,  which  had 
evidently  seen  good  service,  shaking  out  a  little  red 
skirt,  in  whigh  she  was  to  appear  at  the  concert.  "  I 
would  sing  all  your  songs  if  you  would  only  go  ;  but 
you  cannot,  I  know,"  she  added,  with  a  sigh,  as  she 
laid  back  in  the  trunk  the  duplicate  of  the  red  petti- 
coat. 

She  was  silent  and  thoughtful  as  she  braided  her 
smooth,  dark  hair  anew,  tying  the  thick  plaits  with 
scarlet  ribbons ;  then  suddenly  she  turned  to  Katey : 
"  But  you  might  go  in  Christine's  place." 

Katey  shrank  back  from  leaning  upon  Mina's  dress- 
ing table  and  watching  the  deft  fingers. 

"  Don't  say  that  you  won't,"  Mina  went  on ;  "  you 
need  not  sing.  You  could  wear  Christine's  dress,  and 
we  never  take  off  our  hats.  You  have  no  friends  here 
to  recognize  you  ;  and  what  if  you  h'ad  ?  "  she  added, 
proudly.  "  You  could  stand  back  a  little  when  we  all 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  145 

rise  together ;  and  0, 1  should  be  so  glad  not  to  go 
alone  with  father  and  Wulf!  I  believe,  after  all,  I 
should  mind  being  stared  at  with  Christine  not  beside 
me." 

Katey  was  startled  by  the  proposition,  which,  at  the 
first  moment,  appeared  too  absurd  to  be  entertained. 
But  as  Mina  used  every  argument  in  her  power,  she 
began  at  last  to  waver,  moved  more  by  what  had  been 
left  unsaid,  perhaps,  than  by  Mina's  warm  pleading. 
She  was  indebted  to  these  strange  friends  of  an  hour, 
without  whom  she  hardly  knew  where  she  should  have 
been  now,  so  little  confidence  in  herself,  and  so  little 
experience  in  travelling,  did  she  possess.  She  would 
gladly  oblige  bright-eyed  Mina,  if  she  could ;  and  it 
was  true  that  no  one  who  had  ever  known  her  could, 
by  any  chance,  be  found  in  the  audience.  Her  friends 
and  acquaintances  were  not  many,  nor  were  they  given 
to  wandering ;  it  would  be  an  odd  coincidence  in- 
deed that  should  bring  them  here  this  night.  Dacre 
might  follow  her  to  La  Fayette  ;  but  he  was  not  upon 
the  train  which  had  brought  her  here,  or  he  would  have 
appeared  to  her  before  now.  The  little  red  skirt,  the 
laced  black  bodice,  the  dainty  white  chemisette  which 
Christine  was  to  have  worn,  would  fit  her  form  as 
well,  and  perhaps  the  spice  of  adventure  in  the  plan, 
when  it  was  once  entertained,  brought  a  certain  charm 
and  intoxication  of  its  own.  Such  an  innocent  bit  of 
masquerading  as  it  would  be  !  Only,  how  could  she 
ever  face  the  staring  eyes  ! 

"  I  could  not  stand  before  the  people,"  she  said, 
hesitatingly. 

"  You  will  not  think  of  them  at  all,"  Mina  an- 
swered, in  a  gay  tone,  sure  that  her  point  was 
10 


146  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

gained.  "  I  will  hide  you ;  and,  indeed,  as  I  am  to 
sing  all  the  songs,  you  must  not  be  surprised  if  I  take 
ah1  the  attention  and  applause  to  myself,"  she  added, 
with  a  laugh. 

"  I  hope  so,  indeed,"  Katey  answered,  warmly. 

She  unbound  her  hair  at  Mina's  suggestion,  and 
began  to  plait  it  into  braids,  while  the  latter  ran  down 
to  find  her  father  and  Wulf,  without  whose  approval, 
of  course,  the  scheme  was  not  to  be  thought  of.  They 
were  only  too  glad  of  this  unexpected  addition  to 
their  small  company,  and  the  dressing  for  the  part 
went  on  in  the  long,  low  chamber,  Christine  an  inter- 
ested and  delighted  spectator.  The  black  bodice  was 
laced  snugly  to  the  round  figure,  the  red  petticoat  al- 
lowed the  shapely  feet  to  be  seen,  and  Miiia  crowned 
the  whole  with  the  high-pointed  hat,  around  which  she 
had  knotted  a  gilt  cord. 

"  Look,  Christine ! "  cried  Mina ;  and  Christine 
laughed  and  praised  the  transformed  figure,  while 
Mina  danced  and  clapped  her  hands,  ending  the  per- 
formance with  a  hearty  kiss  upon  each  of  Katey's 
dark,  flushed  cheeks.  "  You  were  a  grand  young  lady 
before,"  she  said,  "  but  you  are  one  of  us  now ;  "  and 
with  that  change  of  individuality  which  seems  often 
to  accompany  a  change  of  costume,  making  it  compar- 
atively easy  to  act  a  part  when  one  is  dressed  for  it, 
Katey  felt  that  she  was  indeed,  for  the  time,  a  part  of 
the  odd  family.  What  would  Jack  say  to  it  ah1  ?  she 
thought,  as  she  followed  Mina,  at  last,  to  the  little 
parlor. 

"  You  are  not  really  Swiss  ?  "  she  said,  when  they 
had  closed  the  door  and  sat  down  to  wait  for  the  little 
old  man  and  his  son,  who  were  still  at  the  supper  table. 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  147 

If  she  were  one  of  the  family,  it  behooved  her  to  know 
something  of  its  antecedents. 

"  Father  and  mother  were  born  in  Switzerland," 
Mina  replied,  "in  a  village  not  far  from  Lake  Con- 
stance. They  came  to  this  country  soon  after  they 
were  married.  Father  hurt  his  arm,  and  could  not 
work,  when  Wulf  was  a  baby ;  so  he  tried  to  sing  for  a 
living.  It  was  all  he  could  do ;  and  mother  had  a  won- 
derful voice,  they  say,  though  I  never  heard  it,  for  she 
died  when  I  was  born.  They  sang  in  the  street  at 
first,  but  the  people  all  seemed  too  hurried  and  busy 
to  stop  and  listen ;  so,  after  a  time,  when  they  had 
earned  a  little  money  by  different  ways,  they  ventured 
to  give  a  concert  in  the  public  hall  of  some  country 
town.  Father  had  learned  American  ways  by  this 
time,  and  he  had  some  bills  printed,  with  a  picture 
upon  them  of  himself  in  the  Tyrolese  dress,  with  snow- 
covered  mountains  behind  him,  and  holding  a  long 
Alpine  horn  in  his  hand.  Not  that  he  was  from  the 
Tyrol  at  all ;  but  the  costume  is  striking,  and  it  cer- 
tainly was  effective,  for  the  hall  was  full,  and  the  con- 
cert a  great  success.  Mother,  too,  wore  the  strange 
dress,  and  even  Wulf,  when  he  was  old  enough  to  ap- 
pear, and  then  Christine  and  I." 

"  It  is  very  striking,  as  you  say,"  ventured  Katey, 
"  and  for  that  reason  I  should  think  you  would  prefer 
to  wear  it  only  when  you  sing." 

"  So  we  should,"  Mina  replied ;  "  but  don't  you  see, 
if  we  dressed  like  every  one  else,  people  would  never 
come  to  hear  us  ;  we  don't  sing  well  enough  —  no  one 
of  us,  at  least,  except  Christine,  sings  well  enough  to 
attract  them.  It  is  because  we  look  always  and  every- 
where strange,  and  not  like  themselves  at  all,  that  the 


14g  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

people  in  the  round  of  places  where  we  go  have  a 
kind  of  curiosity  and  interest  in  us,  which  does  much 
to  draw  them  to  our  concerts,  I  am  sure.  And  we 
don't  feel  that  we  are  deceiving  them,  because  deep 
down  in  our  hearts  we  are  Swiss,  —  even  Wulf,  and 
Christine,  and  I,  who  were  never  in  Switzerland.  Do 
you  know,"— and  the  face  of  the  girl  kindled  and 
glowed,  —  "  when  Christine  and  I  stand  up  before  the 
people,  and  sing,  as  we  do  so  many  times,  a  little 
old  song  beginning, — 

'  I've  left  the  snow-clad  hills, 

Where  my  father's  cot  doth  stand, 
My  own,  my  dear,  my  native  home, 
For  a  foreign  land,'  — 

when  we  look  sadly  into  each  other's  eyes,  as  father 
taught  us  to  do  when  we  were  little  children,  often 
and  often  the  tears  have  come  to  mine.  I  see  it  all 
before  me  —  the  cottage  where  my  mother  was  born, 
with  the  vines  growing  over  it ;  the  sloping  green  hills 
descending  to  the  valley,  where  shone  a  little  lake  ; 
the  mountains  beyond,  with  their  white  faces  laid 
against  heaven.  And  I  hear,  0,  above  the  song  we 
are  singing,  the  tinkle  of  the  bells  as  the  goats  come 
slowly  home,  in  the  twilight,  to  the  milking.  I  may 
never  see  it ;  but,  if  I  could  follow  the  path  up  the 
valley  from  the  village,  I  should  know  the  place,  I  am 
sure." 

She  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  lost  in  her  dream ; 
then  she  came  back  to  Katey's  words. 

"  We  did  try  it  once.    When  Christine  grew  to  be  a 

young  lady,   she   was  ashamed   of  the  dress   which 

"  strangers  stared  at ;  so,  to  please  her,  father  allowed 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  149 

us  to  lay  it  aside.  But  our  concerts  were  poorly 
attended ;  still,  for  Christine's  sake  he  persisted. 
He  found  a  blind  man  who  played  the  guitar,  and 
hired  him  to  join  us,  thinking  he  might  attract  the 
public." 

"  And  did  he  ?  "  asked  Katey. 

"  No ;  for  the  guitar  could  never  be  heard  beyond 
the  fifth  row  of  seats,  unless  it  snapped  a  string;  and 
he  might  as  well  not  have  been  blind  for  all  the  benefit 
it  was  to  us  ;  nobody  would  believe  it.  He  rolled  his 
eyes  and  stared  at  the  audience,  and  winked  and 
turned  his  head  in  the  most  provoking  way,  consid- 
ering the  care  and  expense  he  was  to  us.  Father 
tried  to  persuade  him  to  shut  his  eyes,  and  offered  to 
buy  him  a  dog,  to  lead  him  by  a  string,  to  convince 
people  ;  but  he  wouldn't  listen  to  it  at  all.  He  went  on 
with  his  ridiculous  antics,  and  all  the  time  finding  fault 
that  we  did  not  pay  him  more,  when  we  were  earning 
hardly  enough  to  put  bread  into  our  mouths,  until  we 
were  glad  to  be  rid  of  him.  Then  the  proprietor  of 
a  monkey  show  wanted  to  hire  us  to  go  about  with 
that;  but,  though  his  offer  was  a  very  good  one,  father 
would  not  accept  it.  Some  time  before  this,  Wulf  had 
an  opportunity  to  take  lessons  upon  the  bass-viol. 
It  was  wonderful  to  hear  him,"  she  added,  with  sis- 
terly pride  ;  "  but,  though  he  had  learned  to  play  well 
enough  to  perform  in  public,  a  bass-viol  alone  wouldn't 
attract  an  audience  —  would  it  ?  " 

Katey  felt  hardly  competent  to  judge  ;  still,  she 
thought  it  would  not. 

"  So  he  left  us,  to  play  in  the  orchestra  of  a  theatre 
that  winter,"  Mina  went  on,  "  and  Christine  had  a  very 
good  offer  to  travel  with  a  Bible  panorama.  She  had- 


150  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

only  to  wear  a  plain  white  dress,  let  her  hair  down, 
and  sing  solemn  pieces  while  they  were  moving  it 
along.  I  believe  that  Bible  panorama  never  had  such 
a  success  before  or  since.  Still  father  was  sorry  after- 
wards that  he  consented  to  her  going." 

Mina's  words  had  fairly  overlapped  each  other  in  the 
eagerness  of  her  recital ;  now  she  hesitated. 

"  But  I  will  tell  you,"  she  continued,  "  because  it 
troubled  us  all,  and  because  I  like  you.  I  never  had 
a  girl  friend  before ;  we  stay  so  short  a  time  in  any 
place,  and  father  is  so  careful  about  our  making  ac- 
quaintances. Perhaps  you  don't  wish  me  to  reckon 
you  as  a  friend  ? '•' 

Mina  blushed,  and  searched  Katey's  face  with  shy 
anxiety. 

"  0,  yes,  I  do.  I  do,  indeed,"  Katey  answered, 
warmly.  "  And  I  am  giad  to  know  of  your  life,  if  you 
will  tell  me." 

"  Well,"  Mina  went  on,  "  winter  was  coming,  and 
we  had  none  of  us  any  engagement  except  Wulf, 
and  his  earnings  would  not  support  us  all,  when 
Christine  had,  unexpectedly,  this  good  offer.  Father 
inquired,  and  found  that  the  man  who  owned  the 
Bible  panorama  was  very  respectable,  and  his  wife 
was  to  travel  with  him ;  so,  although  we  had  never 
been  separated  before,  and  he  could  hardly  make  up 
his  mind  to  it  now,  he  consented  at  last  to  let  her  go. 
And  she  has  never  been  herself  since." 

Mina  paused  to  brush  the  tears  out  of  her  eyes  be- 
fore she  went  on. 

"  She  was  always  sweet-faced,  was  Christine." 

"  And  so  she  is  now,"  said  Katey. 

"  Yes ;  but  she  was  rosier,  brighter,  then  j  and  yet 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  151 

there  was  something  in  her  eyes,  not  like  a  pain,  but 
as  though  you  could  imagine  how  they  would  look  if 
ever  the  pain  came.  'I  saw  her  the  first  night  she  ap- 
peared with  the  panorama ;  and  when  she  stood  there, 
the  walls  and  towers  of  Jerusalem  rising  behind  her, 
with  her  long,  fair  hair  falling  about  her  shoulders,  her 
hands  crossed  upon  the  bosom  of  the  white  gown,  and 
her  eyes  gazing  away  beyond  us  while  she  sang,  I 
sobbed  so  that  father  had  to  take  me  out.  It  seemed 
as  though  it  were  the  new  Jerusalem,  and  she  a  saint 
in  glory.  She  sang  all  that  winter  in  one  place  and 
another.  She  had  always  a  sweet  voice,  with  a  tone 
in  it  like  the  look  in  her  eyes.  We  used  to  hear  from 
her  often,  and  see  her  occasionally,  and  she  seemed 
bright  and  happy.  But  when  tho  spring  came,  and  she- 
returned  to  us,  there  was  a  change.  For  a  long  time 
Ave  did  not  know  what  it  was,  only  there  was  a  change. 
After  a  time  it  all  came  out ;  for  Christine  could  never 
hide  anything  in  her  soul  from  us.  It  seemed  a  young 
man  had  followed  her,  through  tho  winter,  from  place 
to  place,  until  he  stole  her  heart.  Yes,  stole  it,"  Mina 
repeated,  excitedly,  u  for  he  never  came  boldly  to  our 
father,  as  he  ought  to  have  done  ;  ho  never  came  to 
him  at  all  until  long  after  her  return,  when  he  found  ho 
could  see  her  in  no  other  way.  Where  he  ever  saw  her 
first  I  can't  think,  for  he  was  not  the  kind  of  a  young 
man  one  would  expect  to  follow  a  Bible  panorama. 
He  would  have  married  her  then,  —  that  was  last 
spring,  —  but  father  would  riot  consent  to  it.  Wo 
knew  nothing  of  him.  He  seemed  to  have  money  in 
abundance,  and  boasted  of  his  family ;  but  who  could 
tell  the  truth  of  his  stories  ?  And  yet  he  had  such  a 
way  of  winning  your  liking,  that  an  angel  in  heaven 


152  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

could  hardly  have  stood  out  against  him  long,  and  even 
father  got  to  believe  in  him  at  last,  and  consented  to 
their  being  married  after  a  year,  if  he  would  go  away 
and  prove  himself' worthy  of  her  in  that  time,  —  for  he 
acknowledged,  quite  frankly,  that  he  had  led  an  idle 
life,  not  altogether  blameless,  until  he  knew  Christine. 
So,  when  he  found  father's  resolution  was  not  to  be 
shaken,  he  went  away.  At  first  he  wrote  often,  but 
lately  she  has  heard  nothing  at  all  from  him,  and  is  ill, 
as  you  see,  from  anxiety.  She  fears  he  may  be  sick,  but 
we  think  it  much  more  likely  that  he  has  ceased  to 
care  for  her.  Some  other  pretty  face,  perhaps,  has 
caught  his  fancy." 

Katey  was  silent.  She  was  thinking  of  her  own 
experience  —  of  Dacre.  What  if  he  should  never 
come  again  ?  But  he  would,  she  knew.  "  It  is  very 
sad,"  she  said.  "  Poor  Christine  ! "  And  then  the  little 
old  man  and  his  tall  son  appeared  at  the  parlor  door. 
Mina  rose  hastily. 

"  Is  it  time  to  go  ?  " 

"  Not  yet ;  but  Hans  is  in  the  ball-room,  waiting  to 
play,  if  you  will  come  up.  Ah,  my  dear  young  lady  ! " 
catching  a  glimpse  of  Katey,  who  had  retreated  behind 
Mina's  chair,  suddenly  conscious  of  her  unusual  ap- 
pearance. 

"Is  she  not  the  prettiest  Swiss  maiden  in  the 
world?"  cried  Mina,  dragging  her  forward,  until  her 
dark  flushed  cheeks  and  downcast  eyes  were  revealed 
by  the  light  from  the  hanging  lamp  in  the  hall. 

"  The  costume  is  certainly  very  becoming,"  said  the 
little  old  man ;  "  and  we  are  extremely  obliged  for 
your  kindness,"  he  added,  with  a  droll  little  flourish- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  153 

ing  bow.  "  Now  we  had  better  go  up  to  Hans :  we 
have  no  time  to  lose." 

"  But  who  is  Hans  ?  "  asked  Katey,  as  the  two  girls 
ascended  the  stairs. 

"  0,  he  is  Mrs.  Sheppart's  eldest  son,"  Mina  replied, 
with  affected  carelessness,  ill  suited  to  the  blush  which 
rose  to  her  face  with  the  words. 


154  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

"HOW  LIKE  YOU  THIS  PLAY?" 

rPHE  groat  ball-room  was  unlighted,  save  by  a  couple 
-*-  of  flaring  candles  at  the  upper  end,  where  there 
was  a  raised  stand  for  the  musicians  who  led  the  dance 
upon  festive  occasions.  To-night  it  was  occupied  by 
a  slender,  fair-haired  young  man,  whose  mild  counte- 
nance, illuminated  by  the  rays  from  the  candles,  dis- 
played a  variety  of  changes  in  expression  as  the  party, 
led  by  pretty  Mina,  entered  the  room.  A  stout  man, 
with  a  florid  face  and  a  generally  inflated  appearance, 
whom  Katey  recognized  as  the  original  of  the  King 
Cole  in  the  bar-room,  now  stepped  forward  to  snuff' 
the  candles  with  a  business-like  air,  while  the  young 
man,  descending  awkwardly  from  his  perch,  where  he 
had  been  tuning  a  violin,  greeted  Mina  shyly,  and 
bowed  to  Katey,  with  a  sudden  drawing  together  of 
his  feet,  and  a  spring-like  bend  of  the  back  —  a  bow 
evidently  learned  for  an  occasion ;  but  Katey  by  this 
time  had  become  accustomed  to  being  greeted  as 
though  she  were  an  audience. 

"  Now,  Hans,"  said  the  stout  man,  briskly,  when  he 
too  had  spoken  with  Katey.  The  young  man  returned 
to  his  place,  took  up  the  violin  he  had  laid  down,  and 
rested  it  upon  his  shoulder,  caressing  it  with  his  cheek 
until  it  nestled  into  its  place.  Then  bending  his  ear 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  155 

towards  it,  as  if  to  catch  its  faintest  whisper,  he  raised 
his  bow. 

A  knot  of  shadowy  forms  gathered  in  the  doorway 
of  the  dusky  room.  The  feeble  rays  of  light  touched 
the  two  girls  in  their  quaint  costume,  and  made  a  cir- 
cle of  brightness  around  the  young  musician.  He  was 
no  longer  awkward,  self-conscious ;  the  light  within, 
which  was  a  song  as  well,  glorified  his  face  for  the 
moment,  and  made  it  beautiful,  while  the  tones  of  the 
instrument,  —  so  like  a  human  voice  speaking  from 
the  depths  of  a  human  soul,  —  at  the  touch  of  his  hand, 
pleaded,  and  sobbed,  and  died  away  upon  the  ear  at 
last  with  a  sigh. 

There  was  a  bustle  of  voices  and  gathering  forms 
about  the  player  as  he  ceased. 

"  Yes,"  said  Katey,  when  she  had  descended  again 
with  Mina  to  the  little  parlor,  "  it  is  wonderful !  What 
does  it  mean  ?  Why  is  he  here  ?  " 

"  He  is  only  home  for  a  visit,"  Mina  replied.  "  He 
is  to  be  first  violin  in  one  of  the  best  orchestras  in  the 
country  this  winter.  0,  you  can't  think  how  hard  he 
has  worked  for  years,  going  on  from  one  place  to  a 
higher,  all  the  time."  Her  enthusiasm  was  now  quite 
unlike  her  indifference  of  half  an  hour  before.  il  And 
he  would  never  have  been  a  musician  at  all  but  for  us. 
His  father  hoped  he  would  stay  at  home  and  take  the 
house  after  a  time;  but  Hans  could  not  endure  the 
thought  of  it.  He  told  us  all  his  desire  and  hope  to 
be  a  musician,  one  time  when  we  were  here  a  number 
of  years  ago,  —  for  we  are  old  friends,  you  see,  —  and 
father  persuaded  Mr.  Sheppart  to  let  him  take  a  feAV 
lessons ;  then  Wulf  got  him  a  chance  to  play  in  the 
orchestra  of  the  theatre  that  winter  of  which  I  told 


156  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

you  —  last  winter,  indeed  —  with  him ;  and  so  it  has 
gone  on,  father  saying  a  word  occasionally  to  Mr. 
Sheppart,  until  now  there  is  no  need  for  any  one  to  say 
a  word  —  his  violin  can  speak  for  him.  But  when  we 
come  here  he  always  plays,  as  he  has  to-night,  that 
we  may  see  how  he  has  improved.  He  never  forgets 
to  be  grateful,  and  that  is  the  best  of  it  all.  So  many 
do,  you  know.  But  it  is  time  we  went  to  the  hall ;  and 
here  come  father  and  Wulf  now." 

They  were  much  finer  in  dress  than  they  had  been 
in  the  cars.  The  long  boots  had  been  discarded,  and 
there  were  knots  of  gay  ribbons  at  tfceir  knees.  They 
had  changed  their  cloth  jackets,  too,  for  others  of  vel- 
vet, gayly  embroidered,  and  around  their  hats  were 
tied  gilt  cords  and  tassels,  like  those  upon  Mina's  and 
Katey's.  It  was  a  brilliant  costume,  but  such  as  no 
Tyrolese  peasant  in  his  brightest  dreams  had  ever  im- 
agined himself  possessing. 

Katey  was  in  a  flutter  of  nervous  alarm  as  they 
crossed  the  "  green  "  before  the  little  inn,  fortunately 
hidden,  by  the  gathering  darkness  and  the  cloaks  in 
which  they  were  wrapped,  from  the  prying  eyes  of 
the  curious  crowd  gathered  about  the  door  of  the  hall 
where  the  concert  was  to  be.  It  was  early,  and  the 
hall  nearly  empty,  as  they  saw  when  passing  through 
it  to  the  curtained  corner  near  the  stage  which  was  to 
serve  as  a  dressing-room.  Here  the  two  girls  were 
left  alone,  while  the  little  old  man  and  his  son  returned 
to  the  door  to  look  after  the  sale  of  the  tickets.  Katey 
had  been  quickly  and  easily  persuaded  to  take  her 
part  in  the  entertainment ;  knowing  that  it  was  to  con- 
sist only  in  walking  upon  the  stage  and  standing  with 
the  others.  In  the  excitement  of  dressing  for  the  new 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  157 

character,  after  her  impulsive  assent,  there  had  been 
no  time  to  dwell  upon  her  probable  sensations  in  find- 
ing herself  before  an  audience  ;  and  later,  Mina's  story 
and  the  incident  in  the  ball-room  had  engrossed  her 
mind.  Now,  as  she  sat  upon  an  old  wooden  chair  in 
this  curtained  corner,  waiting,  for  the  hall  to  fill,  and 
Wulf  and  his  father  to  return,  hearing  the  tramp  and 
shuffle  of  feet  and  the  murmur  of  voices  close  beside 
her,  she  was  overcome  with  terror.  Her  hands  and 
feet  became  stiff  and  cold  ;  her  tongue  seemed  para- 
lyzed, and  she  shivered  involuntarily,  though  the  place 
had  seemed  uncomfortably  warm  when  they  entered 
it.  Mina,  on  the  contrary,  danced  about,  shaking  out 
her  skirts,  re-tying  the  ribbons  upon  her  hair,  and  set- 
ting her  hat  jauntily  upon  her  little  round  head. 

"  I  cannot  do  it,"  Katey  said  at  last.  "  I  can  never 
go  up  there ;  it  is  useless  to  try ;  "  pointing  to  half  a 
dozen  steps  leading  up  on  the  stage,  the  mounting  of 
which  would  seem  to  be  no  very  difficult  feat. 

"  Why,  I  do  believe  you  are  frightened !  "  exclaimed 
Mina,  half  in  surprise  and  half  in  unbelief,  pausing  be- 
fore her.  She  took  Katey's  cold  hands  in  her  warm 
little  palms,  and.  chafed  them,  talking  all  the  time. 
"  It  will  be  nothing  when  you  are  once  there,"  she 
said ;  "  and  you  have  not  to  sing,  you  know.  We  shall 
stand  in  a  half  circle,  you  and  I  between  father  and 
Wulf,  and  your  hat  will  shade  your  face,  so  that  no 
one  will  notice  that  you  don't  sing.  There  !  now  you 
are  better ;  "  and  Katey  did,  indeed,  feel  herself  par- 
tially reassured  by  the  touch  of  the  warm  hands  and 
the  sound  of  the  cheerful,  encouraging  voice.  A  cor- 
ner of  the  curtain  was  raised,  and  the  little  old  man 
and  Wulf  appeared. 


158  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  It  is  quite  full  —  is  it  not  ?  "  said  Mina,  catching  a 
glimpse  of  the  hall  as  the  curtain  fell.  "  The  accident 
has  detained  so  many  people  !  "  she  added. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  returned  her  father,  in  a  lofty  tone ; 
"  but  the  accident  did  not  compel  them  to  patronize 
our  entertainment." 

An  impatient  stamping  of  feet  began  to  sound  out- 
side now  at  intervals.  Katey  started  nervously. 

"  Let  them  call,"  said  the  little  old  man,  with  a 
placid  smile.  "Nothing  is  valued,  my  dear  young 
lady,  which  may  be  had  for  the  asking.  Delay  stimu- 
lates curiosity  and  interest ;  only,  however,  to  a  cer- 
tain point.  ,A.  cultivated  ear  alone  can  determine 
when  that  point  is  reached,"  he  added,  philosophically, 
bending  his  head  upon  one  side  to  listen,  as  again 
the  thunder  of  heavy  feet  echoed  through  the  room. 
"  There  is  danger  of  waiting  a  moment  too  long,  until 
curiosity  has  become  irritated  into  angry  impatience. 
I  have  known  a  whole  evening  to  be  spoiled  by  it, 
the  audience  refusing  to  recover  its  good  humor." 

Again  the  building  seemed  to  shake  to  its  founda- 
tions, and  above  the  deafening  noise  sounded  a  shrill 
whistle. 

"  There  is  not  a  moment  to  lose  now,"  said  the  little 
old  man  ;  "  I  would  not  risk  another  round ;  that  whistle 
struck  the  key-note ; "  and  he  mounted  the  steps 
hastily. 

"  If  you  are  frightened,  you  can  go  off  at  any  time," 
whispered  Mina,  giving  Katey's  hand  a  reassuring 
squeeze  as  she  passed  before  her.  But  Katey  thought 
that  to  go  off  would  be  much  more  dreadful,  even,  than 
to  remain,  when  once  upon  the  stage. 

In  the  confusion  of  applause  which  greeted  their 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  159 

appearance,  it  was  not  difficult  to  cross  the  platform, 
and  take  one  of  the  four  chairs  set  out  primly  in  a  row. 

"  Move  your  chair  back,  as  I  do,"  whispered  Mina ; 
and  Katey  found  herself  somewhat  screened  by  this 
arrangement.  She  remembered  also  Mina's  advice  to 
glance  once  all  over  and  about  the  room. 

"  You  will  never  know,  until  you  try  it,  how  that  one 
glance  will  reassure  yon,"  she  had  said.  And  she  did 
even  this,  beginning  with  the  farther  end  of  the  hall, 
where  was  only  a  confusion  of  heads  moving  apparently 
upon  pivots,  and  set  in  rows.  To  her  delight,  they  did 
not  seem  to  represent  individuals  at  all.  Her  courage 
rose,  and  when  at  last  she  had  reached  a  cross-eyed 
woman  down  in  front,  who  was  staring  fixedly  at  no 
one  of  them  in  particular,  her  fears  had  vanished.  She 
began  even  to  bo  amused  by  her  odd  position,  and  to 
wish,  when  they  stood  up  for  the  first  song,  —  in  which 
she  could  take  no  part,  —  that  some  chance  would  place 
Delphine  and  Jack  before  her,  or  that  Josie  Durant's 
high-bred  face  might  start  out  from  among  the  strange 
countenances  at  which  she  dared  not  look  now,  lest 
she  should  betray  her  silence.  How  aghast  with  sur- 
prise and  horror  would  they  be  could  they  see  her  at 
this  moment ! 

Of  one  custom  Mina  had  forgotten  to  inform  her. 
It  was  the  habit  of  the.  family,  at  a  certain  point  in 
the  entertainment,  to  descend  from  the  platform,  and 
walk  slowly  down  and  back  through  the  audience,  by 
which  means  a  most  natural  curiosity  was  gratified. 
Mina  explained  this  now,  in  a  hurried  whisper,  when 
the  first  part  of  the  concert  was  over,  and  the  little 
old  man,  having  made  known  aloud  their  intention, 
proceeded  to  leave  the  stage,  followed  by  the  others 


160 


KATHERINE  EARLE. 


—  Katey  with  downcast  eyes,  and  crimson,  tingling 
cheeks.     She  would  have  refused  had  she  dared,  or 
had  there  been  a  moment  to  explain.     For  might  not 
some  one  recognize  her,  after  all  ?     Might  not  some  of 
her  fellow-passengers  upon  the  train  remember   her 
face  ?    For  the  first  time  it  flashed  upon  her  mind  that 
this  innocent,  good-natured  part  she  had  undertaken 
so  thoughtlessly  might  be  misinterpreted.     She  was 
following  Mina,  hearing  Wulf  's  step  behind  her,  con- 
scious of  the  absurdity  of  her  position,  painfully  con- 
scious of  the  forms  on  either  side  leaning  out  from 
their  places,  rising  from  their  seats,  and  yet  silent  and 
respectful,  when  they  reached  the  end  of  the  hall. 
Katey,  with  her  eyes  upon  the  floor,  had  followed  the 
twinkle  of  the  little  heels  before  her.     Now,  suddenly 
they  disappeared.     It  was  nothing.     Mina  had  only 
hastened  her  steps;  but  Katey,  looking  up  in  that 
moment  of  confusion  and  terror,  met  broad  and  full 
the  searching,  astonishe'd  gaze  of  a  pair  of  deep-set, 
gray  eyes,  belonging  to  a  square  figure,  leaning  care- 
lessly against  the  wall,   and  holding  a  soft  slouched 
hat  in  his  hand.     Good   Heavens !     Where  had   he 
come  from,  and  why  was  he  here  ?     It  was  the  gentle- 
man who  had  watched  her  at  Mrs.  Durant's  the  night 
before.     It  was  the  man  who  had  recognized  Dacre 
upon  the   street.     The   glai\pe   of  amused   curiosity 
which  he  had  bestowed  upon  the  others  changed  to 
the  blankest  amazement  at  sight  of  her,  settling  at  last 
into  a  cold,  hard  stare,  in  which  she  read  only  sus- 
picion and  condemnation.     She  paused  involuntarily. 
Already  she  was  some  distance  behind  the   others. 
Wulf,  seeing  only  this,  and  fearing  that  she  was  over- 
come by  timidity,  took  her  by  the  arm,  and  hastened 
her  on. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  161 

How  the  remainder  of  the  evening  was  passed  she 
hardly  knew.  She  followed  mechanically  the  move- 
ments of  the  others,  but  never  once  again  raising  her 
eyes  to  the  audience,  from  whom  she  turned  away  at 
last  with  a  sense  of  relief  beyond  the  power  of  words 
to  express.  She  was  ashamed  to  care  so  little  for  the 
gratitude  which  her  new  friends  poured  out  in  their 
simplicity  and  delight  over  the  success  of  her  part  in 
the  entertainment.  She  thought  only  of  getting  away 
without  again  encountering  the  cold  stare  of  those 
sharp,  gray  eyes. 

The  audience  dispersed  at  last,  and  they  left  the 
hall  through  the  crowd  which  still  lingered  about  the 
door,  eager  for  any  crumbs  which  their  curiosity  might 
pick  up.  Hidden  behind  Wulf,  and  clinging  to  Mina, 
not  daring  to  look  up,  she  hastened  out  and  across  the 
green.  0  the  blessedness  of  the  shelter,  when  the 
door  of  the  ugly  little  inn  had  closed  behind  them  ! 
11 


162  KATHARINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XV. 

A   NEW   LIFE. 

KATEY  awoke  late  the  next  morning.  She  was 
tired,  and  almost  ill,  after  the  excitement  of  the 
previous  day.  The  first  train  for  La  Fayette  had 
already  gone,  which  she  hardly  regretted,  since  it 
gave  her  time  to  rest  and  partially  recover  herself. 
It  was  afternoon  before  she  bade  adieu  to  her  new 
friends,  and  started  again  upon  her  journey.  King 
Cole  volunteered  to  see  her  safely  aboard  the  train , 
but  this  was  an  honor  which  the  little  old  man  felt 
should  fall  only  upon  himself,  and  which  he  bore  by 
no  means  with  meekness,  making  Katey  painfully 
conspicuous  at  the  station,  by  his  fussy  efforts  to 
insure  her  comfort.  "  Good  by,  my  dear  young  lady, 
good  by,"  he  said  at  last,  still  lingering,  though  the 
train  was  beginning  to  move.  "  Remember  that  you 
have  always  sincere  and  obliged  friends  in  the  Hauser 
family ;  "  with  which  little  speech,  not  unlike  the  con- 
clusion of  a  letter,  he  folded  himself  up  quickly,  and 
hastened  away. 

It  was  night  when  she  reached  her  destination. 
But  while  she  is  standing  upon  the  platform  of  the  sta- 
tion, not  at  all  sure  that  some  one  in  the  crowd  under 
the  blinking  lamps  may  not  have  come  to  meet  her, 
let  us  say  a  word  of  the  town  in  which  she  has  found 
herself. 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  163 

La  Fayette  is  one  of  the  few  cities  in  the  United 
States  which  have  truly  the  appearance  of  long  in- 
habitation ;  with  narrow  streets,  dull  brick  houses, 
and  a  church  visited  by  strangers,  since  it  is  one 
of  the  oldest  in  the  country,  as  those  undoubted  his- 
torians, the  stones  in  the  churchyard,  testify. 

It  is  situated  in  one  of  the  Middle  States,  close 
upon  the  Southern,  at  the  junction  of  two  streams 
of  revolutionary  fame  ;  and,  with  its  winding,  nar- 
row streets,  its  dingy  old  houses,  its  Saturday  market 
held  by  old  women  in  flapping  caps  upon  the  curb- 
stones, is  not  unlike  a  continental  city  in  appearance. 

Lying  near  the  southern  boundary  of  the  state,  its 
interests  are  so  closely  connected  with  that  section 
of  the  Union,  that,  although  professedly  neutral  in 
the  feeling  which  ran  so  high  even  before  the  war,  its 
sympathies  really  and  fiercely  followed  its  interests. 
There  is  nothing  so  bitter  in  its  hatred,  so  strong  in 
its  partisanship,  as  "  neutrality.''*  Even  at  this  time  — 
a  year,  more  or  less,  before  the  hot,  angry  words  led 
to  blows  —  an  avowed  northern  man  was  rare  here  ; 
an  avowed  northern  sentiment  rarer  still. 

The  school  in  which  Katey  had  sought  a  position 
was  an  institution  founded  and  partly  supported  by 
a  religious  sect.  It  was  not,  however,  termed  an 
academy,  but  a  college ;  and  had  received  a  charter 
from  the  state  legislature.  The  only  visible  effect  of 
this  was,  that  the  principal  was  mentioned  in  the  cata- 
logue, and  always  addressed  as  president,  while  the 
male  teachers  bore  the  high-sounding  title  of  pro- 
fessor. 

President  Humphrey  was  a  northern  man,  a  clergy- 
man, who  had  been  for  years  a  missionary  in  India  — 


164  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

a  mountain  of  a  man  physically,  about  whose  summit, 
where  the  snow  was  beginning  to  fall  softly,  the  sun 
nevertheless  always  shone.  Keen,  watchful,  sarcastic 
at  times,  he  yet  bore  an  air  of  genial  ease  approaching 
indolence  —  to  one  who  could  forget  his  peculiar,  rest- 
less, dark  eyes.  He  held  the  school  in  his  great  hand, 
and  moulded  it  to  his  will,  not  by  the  display  of  au- 
thority, not  by  the  pressure  of  a  finger  even,  but 
through  the  belief,  unconsciously  working  in  the 
minds  of  his  subjects,  that  within  him  was  a  power, 
never  exercised,  because  the  present  occasion  was 
always  too  insignificant,  but  none  the  less  mighty  and 
irresistible.  A  northern  man,  he  held  his  place  as 
long  as  it  served  his  purpose  to  do  so,  by  holding  his 
tongue.  Before  that  would  have  become  impossible, 
he  had  accepted  a  position  elsewhere. 

The  senior  among  the  professors,  by  reason  of  years, 
long  residence,  and  his  position  as  instructor  in  the 
dead  languages,  was  Professor  Paine.  He,  too,  was 
a  retired  clergyman,  but  of  another  mould  and  stamp. 
He  was  timid  and  precise  in  manner,  thin  and  brown  of 
appearance,  dressed  invariably  with  scrupulous  neat- 
ness in  ministerial  black,  and  was  remarkable,  mentally, 
for  his  clear  convictions  of  duty,  and  his  knowledge  of 
Latin  and  Greek,  as  well  as  for  his  quiet  persistency 
in  maintaining  his  position  in  regard  to  either.  An 
unwavering  Arminian,  he  would  not  have  hesitated 
to  dispute  with  Calvin  himself,  had  the  opportunity 
been  offered ;  a  strong  believer  in  states'  rights,  only 
a  hundred  miles  of  territory  saved  him  from  perse- 
cution, and  prevented  his  becoming  a  martyr  to  his 
political  faith  a  little  later.  And  yet  he  was  a  cow- 
ard. He  lived  in  mortal  terror  of —  the  schoolgirls  ! 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  165 

Girl-nature  was  to  him  a  language,  the  alphabet  of 
which  he  had  not  been  able  to  master.  Upon  the 
rare  occasions  when  it  became  necessary  for  him,  in 
the  absence  of  the  other  teachers,  to  preside  in  the 
study-hall,  he  entered  the  room  with  a  deprecatory 
air,  at  which  the  young  Amazons  smiled  cruelly  and 
visibly.  He  mounted  to  the  high  desk  with  a  stum- 
bling step,  seated  himself  with  a  care  which  implied 
a  doubt  as  to  final  results,  and  surveyed  the  room  with 
an  attempted  expression  of  ease,  which  perished  in 
the  bud,  his  countenance  saying  in  every  line,  "  Now, 
young  ladies,  now  —  now  —  really  !  0,  you  dreadful 
creatures,  what  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

Then,  first  one  desk-lid  would  fall  with  a  sound  like 
an  explosion ;  another,  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room, 
would  respond ;  a  third  would  take  it  up,  until  every 
desk  in  the  hall  seemed  in  motion;  while  the  poor 
professor,  turning  his  head  spasmodically  from  side  to 
side,  his  bewildered  face  a  deep  mahogany  hue,  tried 
in  vain  to  fix  upon  the  offenders.  He  was  known 
to  have  even  fled  from  the  room.  But  did  the  presi- 
dent appear  in  the  doorway,  every  sound  ceased, 
every  eye  was  fixed  upon  the  page  before  it.  These 
occurrences,  however,  were  rare  ;  perhaps  because 
the  occasions  were  rare,  indeed,  upon  which  he  was 
called  to  preside. 

The  first  among  the  professors,  in  point  of  fact,  was 
Professor  Dyce  —  he  who  strove  to  inculcate  the 
natural  sciences  and  higher  mathematics  upon  the 
unwilling  minds  of  the  girls,  and  to  whom  all  au- 
thority was  intrusted  in  the  absence  of  the  president. 
Like  him,  he  was  born  and  had  been  reared  in  the 
north,  but  had  spent  some  years  of  his  life  abroad, 


166  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

in  the  comfortable  belief  that  he  was  to  fall  heir  to  a 
wealth  which  made  any  exertion  for  his  own  support 
unnecessary.  Circumstances,  however,  —  including  a 
lawsuit,  —  rendering  this  belief  problematical,  and,  at 
the  same  time,  calling  him  to  La  Fayette,  instead  of 
indulging  vain  hopes  or  useless  fears,  he  sought  and 
obtained  a  position  in  this  school  while  awaiting  the 
result,  and,  to  prepare  himself  for  a  possible  future, 
was  pursuing  medical  studies  in  his  moments  of 
leisure. 

Besides  these  two,  there  were  connected  with  the 
institution  Mr.  Milde,  the  teacher  of  drawing  and 
painting  ;  Professor  Grote,  the  music-master  ,  and  still 
another,  of  unnecessary  and  unpronounceable  name, 
Vho  came  upon  certain  days  to  instruct  the  young 
ladies  in  the  modern  languages.  Mr.  Milde  was  a 
bashful  young  man,  with  large  brown  eyes,  and  a 
smooth,  boyish  face,  chiefly  remarkable  for  the  ad- 
amantine nature  of  his  heart,  since  no  amount  of 
strength  brought  to  bear  upon  his  sensibilities  — 
in  the  shape  of  coquettish  airs  and  manners,  or  even 
sighs  and  half-concealed  tears  —  was  able  to  swerve 
him  from  the  rigid  performance  of  his  duty,  which  was, 
as  has  been  said,  to  teach  the  young  ladies  of  the 
La  Fayette  Female  College  the  principles  of  drawing 
and  painting. 

With  Professor  GrSte,  high-shouldered,  square  of 
face,  auburn-haired,  and  with  twinkling  blue  eyes 
behind  his  gold-rimmed  spectacles,  the  young  co- 
quettes were  more  successful.  At  least,  numerous 
stories  of  pretty  compliments,  paid  in  the  professor's 
oddly-accented  English,  floated  about  the  school ;  not 
well-authenticated  stories,  by  any  means,  but  suf- 


KATHERINE    EARLE.  167 

ficiently  plausible  to  give  a  romantic  interest  to  the 
great,  bare  music-room,  and  dull  little  practising- 
closets,  and  to  flavor  somewhat  the  rather  tasteless 
school-life.  As  to  the  female  teachers,  they  shall  be 
enumerated  later,  —  when  Katey  has  found  a  more 
comfortable  resting-place,  even  for  a  summer  night, 
than  the  crowded  platform  of  a  railway  station. 

Evidently  no  one  had  come  to  meet  her.  The  car- 
riages, drawn  up  in  a  dusky  line,  were  beginning  to 
drive  rapidly  away.  She  descended  the  steps,  and  en- 
tered the  last  and  only  remaining  one,  which  had  been 
disdained,  perhaps,  on  account  of  its  shabby  appear- 
ance. In  a  moment  it  was  climbing  the  narrow,  steep 
street,  rattling  over  the  round  paving-stones  of  the 
town,  turning  corners,  and  making  abortive  dives  at 
houses  dimly  shadowed  forth  in  the  flickering  gas- 
light, with  a  kind  of  jerk  and  shamble  of  motion 
which  brought  her  at  last  to  her  destination  —  a 
brick  house,  tall  and  gloomy  of  appearance  in  the 
dim  light,  detached  from  the  others  upon  the  street, 
and  with  a  double  flight  of  high  stone  steps  leading 
to  two  doors  placed  side  by  side. 

"  Pull  either  bell,"  tha  cabman  called,  as  she  hesi- 
tated between  the  two  ;  "  it's  all  the  same." 

A  servant  opened  the  door.  She  stepped  into  a 
narrow  hall,  full  of  the  sound  of  voices  suddenly 
husbed,  proceeding  from  an  open  doorway  on  the  right, 
which  was  immediately  filled  by  a  giant  form,  while 
President  Humphrey's  dark  face  shone  down  upon 
her  full  of  kindly  welcome,  when  she  had  introduced 
herself.  He  was  followed  by  his  wife,  a  little  woman 
of  delicate  appearance,  who  greeted  Katey  languidly, 
and  drew  her  into  the  room  from  which  the  voices 


168  CATHERINE  EARLE. 

had  come  —  a  pretty  apartment,  with  its  bamboo  fur- 
niture and  quaint  foreign  ornaments.  It  was  bril- 
liantly lighted  now,  and  to  Katey,  dazzled  after  the 
dull  glimmer  of  the  street  lamps,  seemed  to  be  filled 
with  people.  A  little  round  man  upon  the  sofa,  whose 
cravat  appeared  to  have  inadvertently  started  his  eyes 
from  his  head,  rose,  at  her  entrance,  with  a  kind  of 
bounce.  This  was  one  of  the  parents,  whom  term- 
time  had  brought  to  Mrs.  Humphrey's  drawing-room 
—  Mr.  Solomon  Luckiwinner,  the  owner  of  many 
shares  in  more  than  one  Pennsylvania  coal  mine,  and 
the  possessor,  also,  of  a  daughter,  which  accounted 
for  his  presence  here.  She  was  an  exceedingly  di- 
minutive, prim  young  lady,  of  insignificant  counte- 
nance, overloaded  in  dress  and  weighed  down  with 
jewelry,  which  seemed  so  out  of  place  upon  her  as 
to  give  one  the  impression  that  she  was  only  holding 
it  a  few  moments  for  the  accommodation  of  some  one 
else.  Just  now  her  small  features  were  swollen  and 
disfigured  by  crying.  The  pangs  of  homesickness 
had  seized  upon  her  already.  Katey,  conscious  of 
an  unaccountable  sinking  of  her  own  heart,  felt  an 
irresistible  drawing  towards  the  forlorn  girl,  who 
gave  her  a  prim,  dutiful  little  bow,  and  then  subsided, 
with  a  suppressed  sob,  into  her  corner  again,  as  one 
or  two  of  the  lady  teachers  rose  hastily  and  came 
forward  to  greet  her:  Miss  Severance  —  tall,  fair, 
brown-eyed,  and  sweet  to  look  at,  dressed  in  deepest 
black ;  Miss  Wormley  —  of  whom  Katey  marked  only, 
at  the  moment,  the  blink  of  watery,  red-rimmed  eyes  ; 
and  "  Our  preceptress,  Miss  Hersey,"  —  a  plump,  high- 
shouldered,  fair-haired  woman,  of  anxious  countenance 
and  timid,  hesitating  manner,  whom  nature  had  in- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  169 

tended  for  a  happier  sphere,  but  fate  and  circum- 
stances had  made  preceptress  of  the  La  Fayette  Female 
College.  These  all  resided  in  the  two  houses  which 
made  up  the  school  buildings  ;  for,  in  addition  to  the 
one  containing  Mrs.  Humphrey's  drawing-room,  there 
was  another  at  a  short  distance  around  the  corner  of 
the  street,  the  two  being  connected  in  the  rear  by  a 
wide  veranda,  at  the  point  where  their  angles  met. 
In  the  corner  itself  was  a  smaller  house,  which  Pro- 
fessor Paine  occupied  with  his  family.  The  other 
gentlemen  connected  with  the  institution,  with  the 
exception  of  Professor  Dyce,  came  in  at  stated  hours 
to  their  classes. 

"  You  would  be  glad  to  go  to  your  room,  I  am 
sure,"  said  Miss  Hersey,  upon  whom  devolved  the 
duty  of  entertaining  these  school  guests ;  "  but,  as  it 
is  in  the  other  house,  perhaps  you  had  better  take 
your  tea  first.  We  did  not  know  when  to  expect  you, 
after  the  accident  yesterday.  Professor  Dyce  and 
our  new  housekeeper  were  delayed  by  it;  but  they 
came  on  this  morning.  We  thought,  from  your  letter, 
that  you  would  come  by  that  train;  but  Professor 
Dyce  could  not  recall  any  one  whom  he  judged  to  be 
you." 

Katey  ran  over  in  her  mind  the  few  faces  among 
the  passengers  which  she  could  remember,  "  I  was 
upon  the  train,  but  I  think  I  did  not  see  him,"  she  said. 

"  Very  likely ;  you  were  not  in  the  same  car,  I 
presume." 

"How  did  you  pass  the  night?  Of  course  you 
were  obliged  to  remain  at  the  junction." 

It  was  Mrs.  Humphrey  who  roused  herself  to  speak 
from  the  arm-chair  in  which  she  was  hidden.  Il<»w 


170  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

timid  and  easily  confused  this  rather  stately  young 
lady  was,  after  all,  she  thought,  as  Katey  replied,  with 
evident  embarrassment,  that  she  had  found  a  very 
comfortable  inn  close  by  the  station. 

"  Still,  it  must  have  been  very  awkward  to  go  to 
an  inn  alone,"  suggested  Miss  Wormley,  craning  her 
long  neck,  and  patting  her  faded,  sandy  hair. 

"  But  I  was  not  alone,"  Katey  replied,  quickly. 
Then  she  checked  herself. 

"  0,  you  were  with  friends  ?  "  Miss  Wormley  saw 
no  reason  why  this  girl  should  not  relate  the  circum- 
stances exactly  as  they  occurred. 

Fortunately,  at  this  moment,  Miss  Hersey,  after  a 
little  flurried  start  and  glance  round  the  room,  pro- 
posed that  Katey  should  go  down  to  tea,  and  rose 
to  lead  the  way.  It  was  long  after  the  usual  tea  hour, 
and  she  was  served  alone.  When  they  returned,  the 
president  and  Miss  Severance  had  left  the  room. 
Mrs.  Humphrey  was  dozing  in  her  chair,  while  Miss 
Wormley  had  drawn  near  Mr.  Luckiwinner,  to  whose 
remarks  she  was  listening  with  a  simper  of  pleased 
attention  upon  her  countenance. 

"  I  ain't  much  of  a  scholar  myself,"  he  was  saying, 
"  but  I  reckon  Clary,  here,  shall  larn  about  all  there 
is ;  "  and  he  described  a  half-circle  with  his  right 
hand,  upon  which  shone  an  enormous  diamond  ring, 
as  though  gathering  within  its  limits  all  the  wisdom 
of  the  earth,  which  was  to  find  a  place  in  poor  little 
Miss  Luckiwinner's  head.  "  There's  money  enough." 
He  winked,  and  chuckled,  and  gurgled,  in  an  alarming 
way.  "  Don't  leave  nothing  out.  We'll  have  all  them 
high-sounding  things.  The  Lord  knows  the  name  of 
'em,  I  don't.  Won't  we,  Clary  ?  "  appealing  to  the 
corner.  But  the  only  reply  was  a  burst  of  sobs. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  171 

"There,  there,  don'tee  now,"  he  said,  soothingly, 
drawing  the  girl  forward,  and  seating  her  upon  his 
knee.  "  You  won't  mind  us,  ma'am  ?  "  to  Mrs.  Hum- 
phrey, as  the  girl  buried  her  face  upon  her  father's 
shoulder.  "  You  see,  she  ain't  had  no  mother  these 
good  many  years."  Perhaps  it  was  the  tight  neck- 
handkerchief  which  squeezed  the  tears  at  this  moment 
into  his  own  eyes.  He  brushed  them  away  with  the 
coarse  hand  upon  which  gleamed  the  showy  ring. 
"  I've  had  to  be  dad  and  marm,  too.  Ain't  I,  Clary  ? 
There,  there,  it  won't  be  no  time  at  all  before  you'll 
be  comin'  home  on  your  vacation,  with  so  much  larnin' 
in  your  head,  that  you  can't  talk  to  your  poor  dad." 
This  he  said  with  a  comprehensive  wink  around  the 
room ;  but  the  only  reply  was  a  tighter  clasp  of  the 
arms  about  his  neck,  and  a  new  burst  of  sobs  into  his 
bosom.  "  And  then  there's  Rol  coming  to  see  you 
next  week.  That's  her  brother,"  he  explained  ;  "  and 
may  be  I  shall  look  in  on  you  by  the  week  after.  .Per. 
haps  I'll  come  to  school  myself !  "  he  added,  as  a 
triumph  of  wit.  "  You  don't  think  your  dad's  too 
old  to  larn  them  high-soundin'  things  —  do  ye,  little 
gal  ?  " 

There  was  a  burst  of  laughter  from  the  hidden  head 
at  this,  and  Mr.  Luckiwinner  choked,  and  gurgled, 
and  reddened,  and  gasped,  as  though  he  were  in 
danger  of  going  out  like  a  sputtering  candle.  When 
he  had  so  far  recovered  himself  as  to  be  able  to  blow 
his  nose  upon  a  handkerchief  with  a  flaming  border, 
he  addressed  himself  to  Katey. 

"  They  tell  me  you're  agoin'  to  be  a  teacher  here  ; 
well,  if  you'd  have  an  eye  on  my  little  gal  — bein' 
young  yourself,"  he  went  on,  without  noticing  the 


172  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

change  in  Miss  "Wormley's  countenance  —  from  the 
most  tender  pity  and  sympathy  to  astonishment  and 
gathering  indignation.  "  If  you'd  let  her  room  with 
you,  say,  I'd  fit  up  that  room  without  sparin'  no 
expense  ;  velvet  carpet,  three-story  black  walnut  bed- 
stead, with  filigree  work  over  the  top,  carved  side- 
board to  put  your  clothes  in,  and  all  them  little  silver 
gimcracks  that  women  like  to  have  round  on  the 
bureau,  handsomer'n  any  communion  service  you  ever 
see." 

Ho  spoke  eagerly  and  hurriedly  ;  but  Miss  Hersey 
ventured  to  interfere,  and  explain  that  it  was  against 
the  rules  of  the  school  for  the  teachers  to  share  their 
rooms  with  the  pupils.  But,  as  each  one  had  charge 
of  a  dormitory  hall,  the  young  lady  could  room  upon 
Miss  Earle's  hall  if  she  chose ;  and  so  the  matter  was 
arranged. 

Suddenly,  Mrs.  Humphrey,  who  had  been  fast  asleep, 
wrapped  in  a  soft  white  shawl,  summer  night  though 
it  was,  roused  herself  with  a  little  yawn,  to  ask, 
"  Where  is  Professor  Dyce  ?  Has  any  one  seen  him 
since  tea?"  The  question  was  answered  unexpect- 
edly. A  quick,  firm  step  sounded  in  the  hall,  followed 
by  a  deep  voice  in  momentary  colloquy  with  some 
one  there,  and  the  professor  himself  entered  the 
room. 

"Here  he  is  now,"  said  Miss  Hersey,  before  he 
appeared,  hearing  his  step,  which  could  never  be 
mistaken  for  the  president's  heavy  roll,  or  Professor 
Paine's  timid  creep.  Katey  turned  with  listless  curi- 
osity. She  had  "half  risen  to  ask  to  be  shown  to  her 
room.  She  dropped  upon  her  seat  again,  her  heart 
for  the  moment  ceasing  to  beat.  It  was  the  gentle- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  173 

man  who  had  recognized  Dacre  Home  upon  the 
street,  and  who  had  confronted  her  so  unexpectedly 
the  night  before.  Why  had  she  never  imagined  the 
possibility  of  this  ? 

"  Ah,"  said  Mrs.  Humphrey,  "  we  were  just  speak- 
ing of  you ;  Miss  Hersey,  will  you  —  "  She  sank  back 
into  her  chair  with  a  little  wave  of  her  hand  towards 
Miss  Earle,  whom  Miss  Hersey  hastened  'to  present. 

The  professor  had  marked  the  shrinking  figure  as 
he  entered,  —  some  frightened  school- girl,  he  had  said 
to  himself;  but  at  the  sound  of  her  name,  he  came 
forward  with  outstretched  hand,  and  a  pleasant,  re- 
assuring word  upon  his  lips,  remembering  the  timid 
start  of  the  slight  figure  whose  face  he  was  curious 
to  see. 

He  recalled  the  image  of  an  odd  littlo  girl,  bear- 
ing this  same  name,  whom  he  had  befriended  years 
before,  at  a  children's  party  in  Boston.  She  had 
forgotten  the  occasion  and  time,  of  course,  and  ho 
had  no  thought  of  making  himself  known  to  her; 
but  the  recollection  quickened  his  curiosity,  and 
warmed  his  usual  cool,  grave  manner  into  unwonted 
cordiality. 

Katey  rose,  but  she  did  not  lift  her  eyes.  Had  she 
not  felt  before  the  sudden,  freezing  stare,  which  she 
had  not  the  courage  to  meet  again  ?  As  for  the  pro- 
fessor, his  hand  fell  to  his  side,  the  half-uttered  words 
of  welcome  came  to  an  untimely  end,  he  bowed  low, 
and,  turning  away  abruptly,  seated  himself  by  Mrs. 
Humphrey's  chair. 

Poor  Katey,  left  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  floor, 
her  bonnet  pushed  back  from  her  burning  face,  her 
slender  fingers  tightly  clasping  each  other  as  she 


174  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

tried  to  repress  the  tears  which  sprang  to  her  eyes, 
remembered  Jack  —  remembered  Delphine's  pleasant 
home  with  a  longing  like  a  pain.  Why  had  she  come 
hero  ?  Did  not  Jack  say  that  she  would  do  something 
absurd  and  unheard  of?  And  so  she  had  already. 
She  stooped  and  picked  up  her  shawl,  which  had 
fallen  to  the  floor,  as  the  buzz  of  conversation  sounded 
again  in  her  ears.  Would  he  tell,  here  and  now, 
where  he  had  last  seen  her?  The  part  she  had 
played  so  thoughtlessly,  and,  as  it  seemed'  to  her  at 
the  time,  so  innocently,  appeared  now  almost  like  a 
crime.  Could  she  confess  it  if  called  upon  ?  For 
a  moment  she  almost  thought  she  might.  Then 
she  remembered  the  skirts,  of  modest  length,  to  be 
sure;  but  much  shorter  than  fashion  or  custom  dic- 
tated. Strange  that  a  few  inches  should  condemn 
her ;  and  yet  she  knew  they  would.  She  might  tell 
the  story,  but  she  could  never  own  to  the  little  red 
petticoat  1 

"  Have  you  come  far  to-day  ? "  There  was  a 
sudden  silence,  as  Professor  Dyce's  voice,  with  its 
slightly  sarcastic  tone,  crossed  the  room.  The  ques 
tion  was  for  her,  then,  —  when  he  knew.  Did  he 
think  to  expose  and  confound  her  before  them  all? 
Pride,  and  something  almost  like  anger,  came  to  her 
rescue. 

"  I  have  come  from  the  junction,"  she  answered, 
with  that  forced,  outward  composure  which  answers 
BO  often  and  well  for  inward  quiet.  She  did  not 
shrink  from  meeting  his  eyes  now.  She  had  been 
foolish,  perhaps,  but  she  had  done  no  wrong. 

"  The  accident  detained  you  there,  I  presume  ;  you 
must  have  found  the  time  of  waiting  rather  dull." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  175 

She  thought  of  the  little  company  of  which  she  had 
made  one,  and  which  he  had  seen  trooping  down 
through  the  hall  in  their  fantastic  garb.  Dull !  It 
was  dreadful  to  remember ;  but  it  certainly  was  not 
dull.  The  flame  in  her  face  rose  to  her  hair. 

"  Yes/'  ventured  Miss  Wormley,  who  had  watched 
Miss  Earle  from  the  moment  of  the  professor's  en- 
trance, and  was  confident  not  only  that  they  had  met 
before,  but  that  there  was  some  secret  cause  of  em- 
barrassment on  Katey's  side,  "  it  must  have  been 
very  tiresome  ;  but  she  was  with  friends,  I  believe. 
Did  you  not  say  that  you  met  friends  upon  the 
train  ?  " 

Katey  had  risen  from  her  seat  and  crossed  the 
room,  trailing  the  little  bright  shawl  after  her.  She 
did  not  appear  to  have  heard  the  question.  "  I  am 
very  tired,"  she  said,  addressing  Miss  Hersey ;  "  could 
I  be  shown  to  my  room  ?  " 

"  0,  certainly,"  Miss  Hersey  responded  quickly, 
rising  and  leading  the  way,  when  Katey  had  made 
a  dignified "  adieu,  which  included  the  whole  room. 
"I  beg  your  pardon  ;  I  forgot  that  you  were  still  in 
your  bonnet." 

They  crossed  the  great  music-room,  and  descended 
a  few  steps  to  the  wide  veranda,  enclosed  on  three 
sides  by  the  buildings,  and  open  to  the  garden  upon 
the  fourth,  at  the  further  end  of  which  was  a  door, 
which  Miss  Hersey  unlocked ;  here  they  found  them- 
selves in  a  narrow  hall,  with  the  school-room  up<  n 
the  right,  shrouded  in  darkness  now,  and  a  flight  of 
stairs  just  before  them. 

"  We  might  have  come  through  the  school-room," 
said  Miss  Hersey ;  "  but  it  is  so  much  more  direct 


176  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

that  we  usually  cross  the  veranda,  as  you  will  find. 
This  is  my  hall,"  she  added,  as  they  reached  the  top 
of  the  first  flight  of  stairs.  "Yours  is  above  it;  I 
will  show  you  ;  "  and  she  led  the  way.  A  long,  wide 
passage  extended  the  length  of  the  building ;  upon 
either  side  were  ranged  doors,  in  a  long  line,  broken 
upon  one  side  by  a  descending  stairway,  which  turned 
and  was  lost  to  sight  in  the  darkness. 

The  last  of  this  line  of  doors  proved  to  give  en- 
trance to  Katey's  apartment  —  a  cosy  little  corner 
room,  lighted  by  windows  upon  either  side,  and  neatly 
furnished.  She  had  no  regrets  for  the  pretty,  luxu- 
rious chamber  which  had  been  her  own  in  Delphine's 
home.  If  her  mind  had  been  at  ease,  she  would  have 
been  quite  content  with  her  surroundings. 

"  There  are  no  girls  yet  upon  this  hall,  I  think  ;  but 
they  will  come  to-morrow.  My  room,  however,  it 
directly  under  yours,  and  if  you  are  timid  —  " 

"  0,  I  am  not  at  all  afraid,"  Katey  said,  quickly, 
longing  to  be  alone.  "  But  Miss  Luckiwinner  ?  "  she 
asked,  suddenly. 

"  Yes  ;  I  had  forgotten.  I  will  see  that  she  has  the 
next  room ;  it  is  not  engaged,  and  she  will  probably 
prefer  to  occupy  it  to-night,  rather  than  stay  in  the 
other  house.  I  will  attend  to  it."  Then,  with  a  pleas- 
ant good  night,  Miss  Hersey  loft  her. 

She  had  lighted  the  gas  and  closed  the  shutters. 
Katey's  trunk  had  been  brought  up  and  placed  behind 
the  door.  She  sat  down  beside  it.  It  was  familiar  to 
her  eyes,  like  the  face  of  a  friend,  and  she  had  not 
realized,  until  this  moment,  how  heavy-hearted  she  was. 
Could  Professor  Dycc  send  her  away  in  disgrace? 
No ;  he  would  hardly  do  that  without  giving  her  an 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  177 

opportunity  to  explain.  But  did  she  wish  to  explain  ? 
She  was  not  at  all  sure  that  she  did.  Even  now  she 
resented  the  tone  in  which  he  had  addressed  her.  She 
felt  that  he  had  mocked  her.  If  he  demanded  an  ex- 
planation she  would  give  it  to  him ;  she  could  not  do 
less ;  otherwise  she  would  say  nothing  at  all.  Ho 
had  looked  at  her  with  surprise  and  suspicion  the 
first  time  they  met ;  but  he  had  no  right  to  judge 
her.  And  that  brought  her  mind  again  to  Dacre 
—  poor  Dacre,  of  whom  every  one  —  unless  it  were 
Delphine  —  disapproved.  The  air  of  the  room  was 
close  and  stifling ;  she  turned  down  the  gas  and 
threw  open  the  shutters.  There  was  something  in 
the  stillness  of  the  hot,  starless  night,  which  brought 
back  almost  painfully  the  last  time  she  had  seen  him, 
when  her  cry  had  called  him  back  to  her.  But  for 
that,  she  knew,  he  would  have  gone  away  forever. 
Was  it  regret  that  weighed  her  spirit  down  with 
the  thought  ?  Poor  Dacre  1  his  handsome,  dissatis- 
fied face  rose  before  her,  as  though  she  had  evoked 
it  from  the  shadows.  He  loved  her.  He  would  come 
to  her.  But  when,  and  where  ?  Everything  in  the 
future  was  dark  and  uncertain  tit  this  moment,  as 
she  closed  the  shutters  and  turned  away  from  the 
window. 

She  was  falling  into  a  troubled  sleep,  when  there 
came  a  feeble  rap  upon  the  door.  "  It  is  I,"  said  a 
timid  voice.  "  It  is  Miss  Luckiwinner.  0,  please 
open  the  door."  Katey  unlocked  it  quickly,  to  be  met 
by  little  Miss  Luckiwinner's  tear-stained  face  and 
slender,  white-robed  figure.  "Do  let  me  come  in," 
she  said.  "I  can't  sleep,  I  am  so  frightened  to  be 
alone." 

12 


178  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Stay  with  me,  then,"  said  Katey,  stricken  with 
compunction  at  having  quite  forgotten  her. 

So  the  trembling  little  figure  crept  into  Katey's 
bed,  where  she  soon  forgot  her  fears,  as  did  Katey 
her  anxieties,  in  the  blessed  sleep  of  youth,  which, 
for  the  time,  at  least,  wipes  out  all  cares. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  179 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

"  AND   ONE  WAS  WATER,   AND   ONE  STAB  WAS   FIRE." 

THE  girls  had  returned  from  the  long  vacation ;  the 
classes  were  re-formed,  and  went  on  as  usual,  and 
Katey  had  fallen  naturally  into  the  place  assigned  her. 
Whatever  fears  she  had  been  conscious  of  at  first,  in 
regard  to  being  allowed  to  remain,  were  allayed,  if  they 
had  not  entirely  vanished.  The  kindly  relations  es- 
tablished between  the  other  teachers  and  herself  con- 
vinced her  that  Professor  Dyce  had  not  imparted  hia 
prejudices  to  them.  With  him  she  still  felt  that  she 
was  under  the  strictest  surveillance.  Often  the  door 
of  her  class-room  opened  noiselessly  in  the  midst  of  a 
recitation,  and  he  stood  beside  her,  cold,  calm,  and 
critical,  yet  saying  nothing,  and  departing  as  he  came. 
At  his  first  visit,  she  was  startled  and  discomposed. 
The  book  in  her  hand  fell  to  the  floor  ;  he  restored  it 
gravely.  She  offered  a  chair  ;  he  refused  it  politely, 
but  coldly.  The  younger  girls  tittered. 

"Attend  to  the  lesson,"  Miss  Earle  said,  calmly, 
though  her  face  blazed  ;  and  the  recitation  went  on. 
From  that  day  his  visits  were  apparently  unnoticed. 
Katey  offered  him  no  more  civilities,  except  sometimes 
a  dignified  bow  if  he  chanced  to  enter  in  her  face. 

Often,  when  a  group  of  girls  gathered  around  her 
upon  the  wide  veranda,  —  the  favorite  lounging-place 


180  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

after  school  hours  in  these  pleasant  September  days, 
so  like  a  bit  of  forgotten  summer,  —  the  professor's 
form  would  appear  in  their  midst.  Then,  if  she  were 
the  speaker  at  the  moment,  the  words  died  upon 
Katey's  lips.  Sometimes  in  the  evening,  when  she 
had  taken  her  work  for  an  hour  down  into  the  study 
hall,  where  the  other  teachers  were  gathered  and  Pro- 
fessor Dyce  sat  enthroned,  looking  up  from  her  needle 
she  would  find  the  sharp  gray  eyes  fixed  upon  her 
with  a  puzzled,  strange  expression,  which  sent  the 
stitches  all  awry.  His  class-room  adjoined  her  own. 
She  had  caught  a  glimpse  of  its  arrangement  more 
than  once  through  the  half-open  door.  He  had  fitted 
it  for  a  study  as  well  as  class-room,  with  a  comfort,  and 
even  luxury,  which  made  the  others  seem  bare  by 
comparison.  The  teachers  were  accustomed  to  seek 
him  here,  to  offer  complaints,  or  ask  advice  or  assist- 
ance, Katey  met  them  often  as  she  came  from  or  went 
to  her  classes.  Indeed,  hardly  a  day  passed  in  which 
Miss  Wormley's  teetering  step  and  high-pitched  voice 
were  not  heard  outside  the  door.  She  alone  had  never 
entered  his  room.  She  had  no  complaints  to  make,  no 
aid  to  ask ;  her  duties  were  simple  and  plain. 

She  had  drawn  Clary  Luckiwinner  away  from  the 
other  girls  one  afternoon.  Clary  was  a  dull  scholar  at 
best,  but  in  French  verbs  she  was  well  nigh  hopeless. 
Katey,  seeing  her  pore  over  them  day  after  day,  en- 
deavored to  drill  her  out  of  school  hours,  by  a  method 
of  her  own.  It  was  half  an  hour  before  tea,  and  the 
long  file  of  girls  detailed  for  afternoon  exercise  had 
just  returned.  They  filled  the  veranda,  they  chattered 
in  the  study-hall  and  upon  the  stairs,  they  had  even  in- 
vaded her  own  room  upon  some  flimsy  pretext. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  181 

"I  know  of  but  one  quiet  place/'  Katey  said. 
"  Come,  Clary." 

She  would  not  seek  her  class-room.  Its  neighbor- 
hood to  the  professor's  sanctum  made  her  avoid  it  at 
all  times  when  it  was  possible  to  do  so.  But  under 
the  music-room  was  a  great,  dimly-lighted  hall,  where 
no  one  could  disturb  them  for  a  time.  It  was  a  kind 
of  lumber-room,  with  boxes  ranged  against  the  walls. 
One  of  these,  tall  and  narrow,  held  a  skeleton,  with 
which  the  older  girls  delighted  to  frighten  the  more 
timid,  by  touching  the  spring  attached  to  its  jaws,  and 
causing  it  suddenly  to  gnash  its  hideous  teeth.  Oppo- 
site this  was  a  door  barred  by  a  stationary  table  hang- 
ing flat  against  the  posts  ordinarily,  but  raised  on 
Friday  afternoons,  when  the  clothes  were  given  out 
from  the  store-room  here  connected  with  the  laundry 
in  the  rear.  This  was  the  province  of  Mrs.  Jones  — 
the  jimber-jawed  woman  who  had  come  from  New 
Hampshire  unattended.  At  other  times  the  hall  was 
only  used  as  a  passage  between  the  new  building  — 
as  the  one  containing  the  school-room  was  called  — 
and  the  dining-room,  and  mostly  in  the  extremely  cold 
or  stormy  weather,  when  it  would  be  uncomfortable  to 
cross  the  sheltered  veranda.  It  was  here  that  Katey 
led  Clary  to  remain  until  the  horrible  gong,  always 
beaten  in  this  place,  should  announce  tea,  and  drive 
them  away.  Curled  upon  one  of  the  great  boxes,  her 
back  resting  fearlessly  against  the  high,  red  case  con- 
taining the  skeleton,  Katey  opened  the  grammar. 
''  Now,  Clary,  which  is  it  ?  The  third  ?  Or  shall  we 
look  over  the  exercise  first?"  The  two  heads  were 
very  close  together  as  they  turned  the  leaves  to  find 
the  place,  when  suddenly,  without  voice  or  warning, 


182  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

a  well-kept  but  by  no  means  small  hand  reached  over 
and  between  them,  and  the  book  disappeared.  Clary 
littered  a  sharp  little  scream.  Even  Katey  caught 
her  breath.  Had  the  skeleton  become  reanimated? 
Certainly  no  skeleton  ever  displayed  such  muscular 
fingers  as  those  which  bad  closed  over  the  book  in  her 
lap.  She  remembered  now  that  this  hall  was  the  di- 
rect passage  from  the  class-rooms  to  the  library,  to  the 
president's  office,  and,  indeed,  the  whole  of  the  story 
above,  as  well  as  to  the  dining-room  upon  this  floor ; 
and  with  the  indignation  in  her  face  there  was  blended 
no  surprise  to  see  Professor  Dyce  standing  before  her, 
coolly  turning  the  leaves  of  the  French  Grammar,  as 
she  descended  from  her  undignified  position,  and 
walked  away  without  a  word,  leaving  Clary  to  remain 
or  follow,  as  she  chose.  Clary,  whose  intuitions  were 
not  especially  keen,  chose  to  stay.  She  was  not  at  all 
afraid  of  Professor  Dyce,  who,  although  reserved  in 
his  intercourse  with  the  girls,  was  yet  too  thoroughly 
just  in  his  dealings  to  fail  to  win  their  respect,  and  a 
kind  word  or  two  bestowed  upon  Clary  in  the  days  of 
her  desolation  had  made  her  his  faithful  servant.  She 
began  now  with  an  elaborate  explanation  of  the  cir- 
cumstances which  had  brought  them  here,  ending 
with  a  eulogy  upon  Katey's  patient  endeavors  in  her 
behalf.  "  It  makes  no  difference  how  tired  she  is  ;  she 
hears  me  say  them  every  day,"  she  added,  in  con- 
clusion. 

"  But  Miss  Earle  does  not  have  the  French  classes." 

"  0,  no ;  Miss  Wormley  has  us  beginners.     But  it  is 

very  kind  in  Miss   Earle,"  Clary   ventured.     It  had 

dawned  upon  her  at  last  that  there  was  something  like 

disapproval  in  the  professor's  manner. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  183 

"  Yes,"  lie  said,  thoughtfully,  giving  her  the  book, 
and  passing  on. 

Katey's  steps  were  quickened  when  once  out  of  the 
professor's  sight.  Passing  the  school-room,  she  saw 
that  it  was  empty  now.  Her  eyes  were  full  of  angry 
tears,  and  there  was  a  choking  sob  in  her  throat.  The 
awful  shriek  and  wail  of  the  gong  sounded  in  her  ears. 
She  could  not  go  on  to  her  room,  meeting  half  the 
school  upon  the  way.  She  turned  in  here,  and  passed 
down  the  length  of  the  room  to  one  of  the  desks  in  the 
last  row.  The  shutters  were  closed  to  keep  out  the  dust 
whirling  through  the  narrow  streets  in  the  September 
wind ;  the  light  was  dim  here  ;  no  one  would  notice 
her.  She  was  shaded,  too,  by  the  heavy,  winding 
stairway  behind  her,  beginning  in  a  broad  step  or  two, 
then  branching  off  on  either  side,  and  leading  to  the 
dormitory  halls  above.  No  one  would  descend  here ; 
these  stairs  were  never  used  except  upon  grand  occa- 
sions. The  last  shriek  of  the  gong  —  like  a  voice 
from  Pandemonium  —  had  died  away.  She  would  not 
heed  the  summons;  Clary  alone  would  miss  her  — 
Clary,  who  followed  her  like  a  spaniel,  and  with  whom 
she  could  not  be  trusted,  it  seemed  ;  and  for  the  mo- 
ment the  anger  that  rose  within  her  dried  away  her 
tears. 

The  place  was  very  still.  The  bustle  and  din  of 
the  town  were  shut  out  from  her  retreat.  The  very 
quiet  soothed  and  calmed  her  after  a  while.  She 
crossed  her  arms  upon  the  desk,  and  laid  her  head 
upon  them.  A  gentle  drowsiness  stole  over  her  — 
the  rest  which  comes  after  a  sharp  pain.  She  was 
roused  by  a  step  upon  the  veranda  —  a  quick,  resound- 
ing step  belonging  to  no  one  of  the  girls.  It  would 


184  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

pass  on.  But  to  her  terror  it  drew  nearer  and  nearer. 
She  would  not  raise  her  head.  The  shadows  would 
hide  her.  It  came  down  the  aisle,  it  paused  beside 
her.  She  lay  quite  still,  but  stifled  by  the  frightened 
beating  of  her  heart.  It  was  Professor  Dyce,  she 
knew.  One  moment,  then  he  moved  softly  away  as 
though  he  thought  she  slept. 

She  raised  her  head  when  the  door  had  closed  after 
him.  There  was  a  rustle  of  garments  behind,  and 
yet  above  her.  She  turned  quickly.  Did  she  dream 
it?  Or  had  she  seen  at  that  moment  Miss  Wormley's 
blinking  eyes  peering  down  from  the  winding  stairs 
behind  her  ? 

There  was  the  rush  of  slippered  feet  upon  the  ve- 
randa, the  sound  of  sharp,  shrill  voices,  the  door  was 
flung  open,  tea  was  over,  and  the  girls  streamed  by 
and  in  at  the  farther  end  of  the  room. 

Some  one  approached  with  anxious  haste,  bearing  a 
little  tray  carefully.  It  was  Clary  Luckiwinner,  her 
face  aglow.  "  I  have  brought  you  some  tea  and  toast ; 
and  I  begged  Mrs.  Jones  to  give  me  a  bit  of  marma- 
lade ; "  and  she  set  her  tray  down  upon  the  desk. 

"  But  I  have  a  headache.  I  did  not  care  for  any- 
thing. How  did  you  know  I  was  here  ?  "  Katey  said, 
quickly. 

"  0,  Professor  Dyce  told  me  that  you  were  asleep  in 
the  school-room.  And  he  said  perhaps  Mrs.  Jones 
would  let  me  carry  some  tea  to  yon.  It  is  quite  like 
a  picnic  —  isn't  it?"  Clary  went  on,  spreading  a  fresh 
napkin  over  the  desk. 

So  she  was  indebted  to  Professor  Dyce?  He  had 
repented,  then,  of  his  rudeness.  Perhaps  he  had  come 
to  tell  her  so.  She  was  still  sore  and  hurt,  and  by  no 


IT  (AMI-;  j»)\v\  THE  AISI.I:,   IT   I-AISKH  JSKSIDK  UKK.      I' 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  185 

means  inclined  to  forgive  him ;  but  she  was  faint  also, 
and  feverish  with  thirst ;  so  she  drank  the  tea  thank- 
fully, and  ate  the  thin  slices  of  toast  which  Clary's  de- 
lighted hands  spread  for  her. 

She  would  not  stay  in  her  own  room  that  evening, 
as  she  was  at  first  inclined  to  do.  She  was  too  proud 
to  hide,  as  though  she  were  sorry  or  ashamed.  And 
yet  she  shrank  from  meeting  the  professor  again. 
She  waited  until  past  the  hour  of  assembling  in  the 
study-hall,  and  then  stole  down  the  stairs,  and  slipped 
into  a  seat  near  the  door.  It  was  Friday  evening. 
There  were  no  lessons  for  the  next  day  to  be  learned. 
The  girls  had  gathered  in  knots,  sewing  in  hand,  wait- 
ing for  some  one  of  the  teachers  to  read  aloud,  as  was 
the  custom.  Miss  Hersey,  turning  her  perplexed,  an- 
noyed face  towards  the  clock  continually,  rose  at  last 
with  some  hesitation;  but  at  that  moment  the  door 
opened,  and  Professor  Dyce  walked  into  the  room,  and 
ascended  to  the  desk.  The  half-suppressed  voices 
ceased  as  he  searched  among  the  books  before  him. 
There  was  a  perceptible  frown  upon  the  broad  fore- 
head. Some  one  ventured  an  irrelevant  question.  He 
answered  sharply.  The  girls  stared,  and  whispered 
to  each  other.  He  found  the  book  he  sought,  raised 
his  head,  and  glanced  over  the  group  of  teachers  by 
the  door.  His  face  cleared  somewhat  at  sight  of 
Katey's  gray-clad  figure  seated  composedly  with  the 
others,  her  head  bent  over  her  work.  He  turned  the 
pages,  found  the  place,  and  began  to  read. 

"  Notwithstanding  the  general  rules  established  for 
the  conviction  and  punishment  of  the  Christians,  the 
fate  of  those  sectaries,  in  an  extensive  and  arbitrary 
government,  must  still,  in  a  great  measure,  have  de- 


186  /CATHERINE  EARLE. 

pended  on  their  own  behavior,  the  circumstances  of 
the  times,  and  the  temper  of  their  supreme  as  well  as 
subordinate  rulers." 

The  girls  yawned,  and  exchanged  communications 
furtively.  Katey's  fingers  went  on  mechanically  with 
her  work.  Her  thoughts  wandered  miles  away  in  an 
idle  reverie.  All  at  once  they  were  interrupted. 
The  voice  of  the  reader  ceased.  Recalled  unex- 
pectedly to  the  present  time  and  place,  she  raised  her 
eyes  involuntarily.  The  professor  had  asked  some 
question  in  regard  to  what  he  had  read,  which  was 
met  by  the  blankest  silence.  He  turned  from  his  in- 
attentive hearers,  and  misinterpreting  the  startled  ex- 
pression upon  Katey's  countenance,  his  face  resumed 
its  usual  tranquillity.  "  You  may  reply,  please." 

The  work  fell  from  her  hands.  She  stammered  and 
blushed,  feeling  every  eye  upon  her.  "  I  beg  your  par- 
don ;  I  —  I  was  not  listening,"  she  was  obliged  to  say. 

The  book  closed  with  a  snap.  "  There  will  be  no 
more  reading  to-night ;  "  and  the  professor  descended 
from  his  desk,  and  quitted  the  room. 

The  assembly  broke  up  in  confusion,  but  not  before 
Katey  had  caught  Miss  Wormley's  whispered  exclama- 
tion, "  Stupid  1 " 

Yes,  it  was  thoroughly  stupid.  How  could  she 
have  done  so  ?  She  was  humbled  and  penitent. 

"  Don't  mind  it  at  all,"  said  gentle  Miss  Severance 
in  her  ear,  as  they  were  leaving  the  room.  "  It  would 
have  been  the  same  with  any  of  us  ;  we  were  not  pay- 
ing the  least  attention." 

"It  was  so  unlike  Professor  Dyce,"  added  Miss 
Hersey.  "  I  never  knew  him  to  read  Roman  History 
before  on  Friday  evening." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  187 

Saturday  morning  was  a  time  of  unrestrained  liberty 
to  the  girls.  They  came  and  went  as  they  chose, 
making  purchases,  or  paying  visits,  if  they  were  so 
fortunate  as  to  have  friends  in  the  town.  Katey, 
bound  by  no  restrictions  upon  other  days,  was  glad 
to  stay  within  doors  to  enjoy  the  unusual  quiet  of  the 
deserted  school-room  and  empty  halls.  She  had 
finished  a  letter  to  Delphine,  and  was  on  her  way  now 
to  leave  it  upon  the  desk  in  the  school-room,  from 
which  the  letters  were  gathered  at  certain  hours. 
Some  one  ran  against  her  at  the  foot  of  the  stairs.  It 
was  little  Maria  Chillson,  one  of  the  youngest  girls  in 
the  school,  all  in  a  flutter  of  haste  and  flying  ribbons. 
"  0,  Miss  Earle,  I  was  coming  to  your  room.  I  have 
got  something  for  you."  She  pulled  and  tugged  at 
her  pocket,  bringing  out  neither  cake  nor  candy, — 
with  which  that  receptacle  was  usually  filled,  —  but  a 
note. 

From  whom  could  it  be  ?  There  was  no  postmark 
or  stamp  upon  it,  and  the  handwriting  was  strange  to 
her.  She  turned  it  over  and  over ;  there  was  no  mis- 
take. "  Miss  Katherine  Earle,"  the  superscription 
read. 

"  Where  did  you  get  this  ?  " 

"  A  gentleman  gave  it  to  me  on  the  street.  He 
went  away  to  write  it,  and  came  back  again.  And  he 
asked  me  ever  so  many  questions,  too,  —  if  you  had  to 
sit  in  thfe  school-room  evenings,  and  all  that,"  the 
child  added,  carelessly.  It  was  nothing  to  her.  She 
was  impatient  to  be  gone  again.  The  precious  mo- 
ments were  slipping  away. 

Katey  sat  down  upon  the  stairs,  seized  with  a  sud- 
den trembling.  It  had  come  at  last,  then.  He  had 


188  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

not  forgotten  her.  She  had  not  trusted  him  in  vain. 
And  he  was  so  near !  She  rose  up  hurriedly,  and  was 
hastening  up  the  stairs,  holding  the  precious  letter 
tight  in  her  hand,  when  she  remembered  the  child. 
"  Maria !  "  she  called.  The  blue  ribbons  were  half 
way  across  the  veranda.  They  came  back  drooping, 
and  slowly.  She  took  the  child  in  her  arms.  "  I  want 
to  tell  you  something,"  she  said.  "You  must  never 
do  this  again.  You  must  never  listen  to  any  stranger 
upon  the  street.  Will  you  remember  ?  " 

"Yes,  ma'am;"  but  the  child  made  an  impatient 
movement  to  free  herself  from  Katey's  arm. 

"  And  now  you  had  better  come  with  me." 

"  But  I  want  to  go  out  again.     I  —  " 

"  You  are  too  young  to  go  out  alone.  It  must  not 
happen  again.  Never  mind,"  —  as  the  heavy  little 
countenance  fell  into  a  still  more  forlorn  expression  of 
disappointment,  —  "I  will  go  with  you  some  afternoon 
next  week ;  and  now  you  may  come  and  sit  with  me, 
if  you  choose,  until  the  others  return ;  "  and  she  bore 
her  off. 

The  note  fairly  burned  in  her  pocket;  but  she 
would  not  open  it  before  the  child.  She  taxed  her- 
self to  amuse  her  little  prisoner,  so  that  she  should  not 
feel  her  bonds ;  and  the  child  passed  a  happy  hour, 
until  the  gong  sounded  for  dinner,  calling  them  both 
below.  It  seemed  as  though  the  dinner  hour  would 
never  pass.  It  was,  indeed,  the  most  unrestrained 
and  social  meal  of  the  week ;  where  the  girls  brought 
to  eager  telling  their  exploits  and  adventures  of  the 
morning,  and  at  which  more  than  half  of  them  ap- 
peared in  their  hats  and  shawls  —  as  they  came  in 
from  the  street. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  189 

Dinner  over  at  last,  she  was  waylaid  as  she  passed 
Miss  Hersey's  hall,  and  led  away  to  her  room  for  a 
long  consultation  about  various  school  matters,  which 
seemed  to  Katey  strangely  trivial  and  unimportant,  — 
longing,  as  she  did,  to  be  set  free.  Even  when  she 
had  gained  her  own  room,  Clary  followed  close  in  her 
footsteps  to  ask  her  advice  upon  her  toilet  for  the 
evening.  It  was  to  be  one  o*f  the  reception  nights, 
which  occurred  three  or  four  times  in  a  term,  when 
the  friends  of  the  teachers  and  pupils  were  invited  to 
pass  the  evening  at  the  school.  There  would  be  music 
and  restrained  conversation,  with  some  simple  refresh- 
ments served  in  the  music-room.  Clary,  upon  these 
rather  mild  occasions,  decked  herself  out  like  a  Chi- 
nese idol.  "  And  what  will  you  wear  ?  "  she  asked. 
"  Please,  something  light  and  thin ;  and  braid  your 
hair  like  a  crown."  Katey  threw  open  the  shutters  to 
let  the  faint  breeze  steal  in.  A  flood  of  torrid  sun- 
light came  with  it.  How  long  the  summer  was  a  dy- 
ing !  "  I  don't  know  ;  it  doesn't  matter,"  she  answered. 
There  was  a  brcathlessncss  in  her  voice  which  had 
nothing  to  do  with  her  words.  She  stood  in  the  open 
window  in  the  blazing  sunlight,  and  gazed  far  up  the 
dusty  street.  Somewhere  in  the  dull  old  town  Caere 
was  at  this  moment.  0,  so  near  ! 

One  after  another  the  girls  in  the  hall  stole  in.  A 
rap  at  the  door,  a  faint  excuse  until  the  place  was  full. 
She  might  run  away  and  leave  them  in  possession ; 
but  where  should  she  go  ?  The  halls,  the  stairs,  the 
school-room,  each  held  its  knots  of  chattering  girls. 
The  skeleton-room  was  not  to  be  thought  of  again,  and 
she  would  riot  venture  upon  her  class-room,  lest  in  the 
narrow  passage  she  should  encounter  Professor  Dyce. 


190  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Not  until  the  summons  came  to  tea  was  the  room 
cleared;  and  then  she  followed  the  others.  She 
lingered  to  fasten  the  door  behind  her,  and  so  stepped 
out  into  the  hall  alone.  As  she  passed  little  Maria 
Chillson's  door,  she  saw  that  three  figures  stood  just 
inside.  They  were  Miss  Wormley,  Maria,  and  a  dull- 
faced  girl,  who  would  have  passed  through  the  school 
unnoticed,  but  that  she  "was  a  niece  of  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  and  subject  to  fits.  Either  of 
these  circumstances  would  have  made  her  remarkable. 
The  conjunction  rendered  her  famous. 

"  1  don't  know,"  Maria  was  saying,  impatiently ; 
"  only  he  gave  me  the  note,  and —  " 

They  ali  turned  at  Katey's  step.  Maria  flushed 
crimson,  and  hung  down  her  head.  Miss  Wormley 
came  forward  with  unnecessary  haste.  "  I  have  had 
a  note  from  Maria's  mother ;  I  took  it  up  to  read  to 
her,"  she  said.  Katey  turned  her  dark  eyes  full  upon 
her.  It  was  not  the  truth,  she  knew.  It  was  of 
Dacre's  note  to  her  they  had  been  speaking.  They 
had  made  the  child  tell  the  story.  But  they  could  not 
take  it  away  from  her,  she  thought,  with  a  great  rush 
of  gladness,  pressing  her  hand  instinctively  upon  the 
pocket  where  the  precious  missive  still  lay  hidden. 
She  had  hastened  her  steps ;  she  murmured  something, 
she  hardly  knew  what,  as  she  left  them  and  ran  down 
the  stairs  and  across  the  veranda.  She  feared  nothing 
at  this  moment ;  she  desired  nothing  but  one  little  half 
hour  of  undisturbed  solitude. 

She  left  the  table  before  the  others,  slipping  out 
quietly  from  her  seat,  which  was  near  the  door.  Not 
once  did  she  pause  or  glance  to  the  right  or  left  until 
she  had  gained  her  own  room,  and  fastened  the  door 
behind  her.  Not  even  Clary  should  enter  now. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  191 

She  drew  the  note  from  her  pocket.  How  she  had 
longed  for  it !  He  might  have  written  to  her  openly. 
She  had  scanned  the  letters  day  after  day  in  eager 
hope,  but  in  vain.  She  had  tried  not  to  be  impatient. 
She  had  striven  to  banish  her  fears.  She  held  the  let- 
ter in  her  hand,  stroking  it  gently.  How  would  he 
write  to  her  ?  She  had  never  received  a  letter  in  her 
life  except  from  Delphine,  or  Jack,  or  Josie  Durant. 
This  would  be  quite  different ;  and  so,  at  last,  full  of 
hope  and  happiness,  and  a  wondering  as  to  what  it 
contained,  which  enhanced  both,  she  opened  the  letter 
and  spread  it  out  before  her. 

"  DEAR  KATEY,"  it  began  —  as  Jack  or  Delphine 
might  have  written  ;  but  the  words  held  a  new  signifi- 
cance —  "I  must  see  you.  Something  has  happened, 
and  I  am  going  away.  Send  me  a  line  by  the  bearer 
(if  the  stupid  little  fool  ever  gives  this  to  you).  If  I 
do  not  hear  from  you,  telling  me  where  and  when  I 
can  see  you  to-day,  I  shall  be  in  the  school-garden  to- 
night at  nine  o'clock.  Do  not  fail  to  meet  me.  If  you 
do,  I  shall  appear  in  the  school-room  at  prayers,  by 
way  of  the  garden  and  veranda.  The  long  window 
opening  upon  the  veranda  was  left  unfastened  last 
night.  Did  you  know  it  ?  I  am  inclined  to  attend 
prayers  in  order  to  confound  Dyce.  What  unlucky 
star  ever  sent  you  to  his  school  ?  I  did  not  recognize 
him  that  day  upon  the  street,  though  he  knew  me.  It 
came  to  me  afterwards.  He  lived  in  Boston  for  years 
—  always,  indeed,  until  he  went  abroad.  My  youth- 
ful career  is  perfectly  familiar  to  him,  and  probably 
my  later  exploits.  But  if  he  makes  you  uncomfortable 
in  any  way,  I'll  —  well,  anything  you  choose.  I  know 


192  /CATHERINE  EARLE. 

your  window,  Katey-did.  You  stood  a  long  while  be- 
fore it  lust  night.  You  should  have  been  sleeping, 
young  woman,  to  keep  the  dusky  eyes  bright.  Ah, 
Katey,  Katey,  it  would  be  better  if  I  had  gone  without 
seeing  you.  It  would  be  better  for  you  if  I  had  never 
seen  you  at  all.  But  do  come  to  me  this  once.  I  must 
see  you.  D." 

The  letter  fell  out  of  her  hands.  What  did  it  mean  ? 
What  had  happened ?  and  where  was  he  going?  O, 
she  must  see  him  indeed ;  she  would  write  to  him  at 
once.  Then  she  remembered  that  the  time  for  that 
had  passed.  He  would  come  to  the  garden,  expect- 
ing to  meet  her  there,  and  she  must  steal  out  to  him 
like  a  thief  in  the  night !  There  was  no  help  for  it 
now. 

There  was  a  sweep  of  trailing  gowns  outside  ;  high- 
pitched  voices  echoed  through  the  hall ;  doors  opened 
and  shut ;  already  the  girls  were  preparing  for  a  de- 
scent to  the  dull  festivities.  She  thrust  the  letter 
into  her  pocket  as  a  low  rap  sounded  upon  the  door. 

"  0,  please,"  begged  Clary  Lucki winner,  entering 
timidly,  "  will  you  tie  my  sash  ?  But  you  are  not 
dressed  !  Are  you  not  going  down  ?  " 

"  Don't  wait  for  me,"  Katey  replied ;  "  I  fear  I  shall 
be  late." 

"  But  you  will  wear  some  of  my  flowers  ?  " 

And  Clary,  prodigal  of  sweets,  dropped  a  handful 
of  blossoms  upon  Katey's  dressing-table  as  she  hastened 
away. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  193 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

THE  BED  EOSE  CEIES,  "  SHE  IS  5EAB,  SHE  IS  BEAB."      A5D 
THE    WHITE   EOSE   WEEPS,  "SHE   IS   LATE.'' 

THE  company  had  gathered  in  the  music-room  and 
the  library  adjoining;  the  girls  were  grouped 
about  one  of  the  pianos,  with  Professor  Grote  darting 
here  and  there,  arranging  the  music,  whimpering  a 
_  _  ^stion,  and  finally  taking  his  place  behind  the 
player,  and  signifying  by  an  upward  motion  of  his 
head  and  baton  that  the  madrigal,  rehearsed  so  often 
for  a  month  past,  might  now  begin.  Katey,  drawing 
back  behind  Professor  Paine,  glanced  at  the  clock  just 
over  Professor  Grote's  head.  The  minute  and  the 
hour  hand  had  almost  met  at  nine.  The  tune  had 
come.  She  must  slip  away  now  while  they  were 
singing.  Refreshments  would  follow,  and  she  would 
not  be  missed  for  a  little  time.  But  still  she  did  not 
go.  She  only  stood  quite  still,  staring  as  though 
fascinated  at  the  hands  of  the  clock,  while  the  song 
the  girls  were  chanting  rang  through  her  head :  — 

"  I  lore  my  lore  in  the  morning, 
for  ihe,  Eke  the  morn,  is  fair  — is  to." 

At  the  last  moment  her  courage  had  failed  her,  and 
jet  she  must  go. 

Professor  Dvce,  standing  just  within  the  library  door, 
13 


194  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

watched  her  curiously.  What  had  suddenly  checked 
the  very  breath,  as  it  seemed,  upon  her  lips?  At 
what  was  the  girl  staring  with  such  intent  and  almost 
frightened  gaze?  When  he  looked  again  she  was 
gone.  She  had  opened  the  door  behind  her,  and 
crossed  the  veranda  to  the  school-room.  A  pile  of 
shawls  lay  upon  one  of  the  desks  here ;  she  caught  up 
one  as  she  passed,  wrapped  it  about  her,  and  then  ran 
down  the  stairs  leading  to  the  class-rooms,  at  the  foot 
of  which  was  a  door  opening  under  the  high  veranda 
upon  the  garden.  The  hall  was  dark ;  but  the  door 
once  found,  it  was  easy  to  turn  the  key  in  the  lock. 
The  cool  evening  air  touched  her  face.  There  was  a 
faint  rustling  outside.  But  it  was  only  the  dead 
leaves  of  the  woodbine  swirled  by  a  sudden  gust  of 
wind.%  The  garden  was  not  an  inviting  place  at  its 
best,  and  was  gloomy  enough  at  this  hour.  It  was 
raised  above  the  street,  from  which  it  was  separated  by 
a  wall.  This  wall,  with  a  row  of  half- dead  poplars, 
extended  also  across  one  side,  shutting  it  in  from  its 
neighbors.  The  two  school-buildings  completed  the 
square.  The  ground  was  irregular  and  grass-grown, 
showing  by  daylight  faint  traces  of  paths  and  flower- 
beds. It  was  denuded  of  everything  now,  save  these 
old  poplars  and  a  clump  of  willows  overhanging  the 
street  close  by  the  school-buildings. 

She  gathered  the  white  drapery  of  her  gown  about 
her,  and  listened  a  moment  before  stepping  out. 
There  was  no  sound  from  the  veranda,  and  the  win- 
dows of  the  practising-closets,  overlooking  the  garden, 
were  silent  and  dark.  A  form  moved  out  from  the 
clump  of  willows,  and  came  to  meet  her.  What  if  it 
should  not  be  Dacre,  after  all?  He  caught  her  as  she 
shrank  back. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  195 

"  Katey  ?  Why,  how  white  you  are  —  even  to  your 
face !  Did  I  frighten  you  ?  " 

"  0,  how  dared  you  come  ?  "  she  exclaimed. 

"Dared!"  He  laughed  scornfully.  "I  tell  you, 
Katey,  if  you  had  not  met  me  I  would  have  —  " 

"Hush!  hush!"  for  his  voice  had  risen  danger- 
ously. 

"  Come  away,  then ; "  and  he  led  her  down  to  the 
foot  of  the  garden. 

Overhead  the  stars  shone  bright  and  clear ;  but  a- 
soft,  dusky  cloud  seemed  to  have  dropped  upon  the 
earth.  Was  it  this  which  had  suddenly  come  between 
them?  The  slender  branches  of  the  willows  stirred 
with  a  faint,  sighing  sound ;  a  fitful  wind  rustled  the 
dead  leaves  upon  the  grass ;  a  passing  step  below 
lagged,  and  paused,  then  went  on,  growing  faint  at 
last  in  the  distance. 

"  What  are  they  doing  in  there  ?  "  Dacre  motioned 
towards  the  house. 

"  They  were  singing  when  I  came  out.  I  can  only 
stay  a  moment ;  they  would  miss  me,"  she  added, 
quickly. 

"  And  if  they  did? —  if  they  found  you  here  —  " 

"  I  should  be  disgraced  before  them  all." 

"Forme;"  and  there  was  something  like  triumph 
in  his  voice. 

"  It  would  do  nothing  for  you,"  she  said,  sadly. 

She  had  been  filled  with  apprehension,  and  yet  with 
a  strange  joy  at  the  thought  of  seeing  -him  again. 
Does  anything  ever  come  to  us  as  we  dream  it  will  ? 
Was  it  because  of  this  other,  lesser  fear  of  being  found 
here  —  of  being  shamed  before  the  school — that  c>vrii 
the  wonder  and  anxiety  which  his  note  awakened  had 


196  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

fled  now,  and  she  was  conscious  only  —  of  what? 
Was  it  disappointment? 

"  A  plague  on  respectability ;  it  is  too  delicate  a 
garment  for  me,"  he  said,  with  a  laugh  which  jarred 
upon  Katey  even  more  than  the  words.  "  I  threw 
mine  away  some  time  ago." 

"  Hush  ! "  she  said  again.  "  It  pains  me  to  hear  you 
speak  so,  even  in  a  jest.  Tell  me  about  all  these 
weeks  since  I  saw  you  last.  I  have  only  a  moment 
to  stay." 

"Tell  you?"  he  said,  turning  upon  her  fiercely. 
"  You  don't  know  what  you  ask.  You  have  not  heard, 
then  ?  They  have  not  written  you  ?  "  he  went  on, 
eagerly. 

"  I  have  heard  nothing  but  what  you  yourself  wrote 
me."  All  her  anxiety  returned  now.  "  0,  what  has 
happened  ?  Where  are  you  going  ?  " 

But  he  did  not  seem  to  hear  her  question.  "  They 
will  gay  hard  things  of  me,  I  know ;  but,  Katey,"  and 
he  clutched  her  arm  so  that  with  difficulty  she  re- 
frained from  crying  out,  "  you  will  not  believe  them  ?  " 

Was  it  the  pain  brought  the  sob  with  her  words  ? 
"  I  will  believe  you.  Tell  me  the  truth.  Tell  me 
now,  Dacre." 

Suddenly  the  sound  of  voices  broke  out  into  the 
night.  There  was  the  sweeping  of  garments  over  the 
veranda.  "  I  must  go,"  whispered  Katey.  "  I  have 
staid  too  long.  But  don't  leave  me  so.  Come  to  the 
house,  and  ask  for  me  to-morrow." 

"  Come  to  the  house  !  Not  I.  Do  you  go  to  church 
ever  in  the  evening  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  alone  ?  " 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  197 

"  Sometimes." 

"  I'll  see  you  then  to-morrow  night.  No  matter 
when  and  where ;  I  shall  not  miss  you."  He  swung 
himself  over  the  wall,  and  disappeared. 

The  voices  had  ceased.  It  was  only  a  party  of 
girls  crossing  the  veranda.  They  had  passed  on,  and 
the  place  was  still  again.  Katey  stood  for  a  moment 
leaning  against  the  wall  where  he  had  left  her.  And 
this  was  the  meeting  she  had  looked  forward  to  for 
weeks  past !  This  was  the  new  life  which  was  to 
come  to  him  through  her  !  What  had  happened  to 
him  she  could  not  tell,  but  no  good,  she  was  sure. 
And  for  the  first  time  she  realized  the  burden  she  had 
taken  upon  herself —  realized  how  little  she  could  hope 
to  influence  him,  and  how  ready  he  was  to  fall  into  the 
old  channels  which  led,  she  knew  not  where,  but  away 
from  everything  good,  and  honest,  and  true.  But  she 
had  known  something  of  this  from  the  first,  if  she  had 
only  paused  to  think,  if  she  had  only  acknowledged  it 
to  herself;  should  she  turn  away  from  him,  noW  that 
he  was  in  trouble?  0,  no;  never!  She  would  be 
true  to  him  in  the  face  of  the  whole  world,  though  her 
heart  was  heavy  and  sad,  and  full  of  forebodings  as 
she  made  the  vow.  She  crossed  the  garden,  locked 
the  door  behind  her,  and  ran  up  the  stairs  without 
meeting  any  one.  It  was  only  when  her  hand  was 
upon  the  door  of  the  music-room  that  she  remembered 
the  shawl  still  wrapped  about  her  shoulders.  She 
carried  it  back  to  the  desk  where  she  had  found  it. 
Then. she  saw  that  the  pretty  white  gown,  whose  folds 
she  held,  was  wet  with  dew.  She  shook  it  out  while 
she  waited  a  moment  to  still  her  hurried  breathing 
before  joining  the  others. 


198  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

The  music-room  was  quite  deserted ;  the  company 
had  returned  to  the  parlors.  As  she  stood  a  moment 
in  the  library,  where  some  of  the  girls  lingered,  a 
voice  spoke  in  her  ear,  "  What  a  fine  color  !  Pray 
where  did  you  find  it  ?  "  She  turned,  and  met  Miss 
Wormley's  face  drawn  into  a  smile  that  was  more  than 
half  a  sneer.  "  Ah,  what  a  pity  !  You  have  stained 
your  gown."  It  was  true ;  the  slimy  moss  from  the 
wall  had  left  its  mark.  "  It  is  still  quite  fresh ;  let 
me  remove  it ; "  and  she  took  out  her  handkerchief. 

"  Don't  trouble  yourself;  it  is  nothing,"  Katey  re- 
plied, coldly ;  but  growing  red  and  white  by  turns  as 
she  drew  her  dress  away,  while  the  girls,  grouped 
about  eating  their  ices,  looked  up  to  wonder,  not  un- 
derstanding this  by-play.  There  had  been  another 
silent  witness  of  the  scene,  who  came  forward  now. 
"  Allow  me ;  you  have  not  been  served,  I  see,"  Pro- 
fessor Dyce  said,  putting  a  plate  into  Katey's  hand. 
He  seemed  to  have  forgotten  his  annoyance  at  her 
stupidity  the  other  evening,  as  well  as  the  part  of  spy 
lie  had  played  the  day  before,  as,  turning  his  back 
upon  and  quite  ignoring  Miss  Wormley,  he  chatted 
gravely,  but  graciously,  for  the  few  moments  before  the 
breaking  up  of  the  company  —  about  what  she  could 
not  have  told.  She  only  felt  grateful  that  his  words 
called  for  rare  and  brief  response,  and  served  to  banish 
her  tormentor. 

She  was  passing  through  the  music-room  on  her 
way  to  breakfast  the  next  morning,  when  President 
Humphrey  called  to  her  from  the  library. 

"  Pray,  calm  your  fears,"  he  said,  as  she  answered 
the  summons  with  a  sinking  heart,  which  showed  it- 
self in  her  startled  face ;  «  we  have  no  fault  to  find  with 
you — have  we,  Dyce?" 


KATHERINE  EARLE.         *  199 

Then  she  saw  that  Professor  Dyce  was  writing  be- 
fore the  table  by  the  window.  "  I  beg  your  pardon  ?  " 
he  said,  interrogatively,  raising  his  eyes  for  an  instant, 
and  then  returning  to  his  writing  again. 

The  president  laughed  as  he  shuffled  the  letters  in 
his  hand.  He  was  greatly  amused  at  the  awe  he 
fancied  his  presence  had  inspired  in  the  mind  of  his 
junior  teacher.  "  Miss  Katherine  Earle,"  he  read, 
selecting  one.  "  It  was  for  this  I  called  you  back, 
not  to  scold  you.  Dyce,  here,  gives  me  a  very  good 
account  of  your  stewardship."  So  he  had  praised 
her  !  The  pen  had  ceased  to  scratch  over  the  paper 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room.  Professor  Dyce  raised 
his  head.  "  You  have  managed  your  classes  exceed- 
ing well,"  he  said. 

That  was  all !  There  was  a  reservation,  she  felt,  in 
his  tone  and  his  commendation.  She  made  a  little 
comprehensive  courtesy  as  she  received  her  letter. 
It  might  imply  thanks,  if  he  chose  to  consider  it  so ; 
at  least  it  hid  the  tears  which  sprang  to  her  eyes. 
Then  she  quitted  the  room. 

The  letter  was  from  Delphine.  She  had  recognized 
the  handwriting  even  before  the  president  gave  it  to 
her.  She  remembered  Dacre's  words,  "  Delphine  or 
Jack  will  write  you."  Then  came  the  appeal,  "  But 
you  will  not  believe  them  ! "  What  was  she  not  to 
believe  ?  She  had  hardly  courage  to  open  the  letter 
when  she  was  once  locked  into  her  room.  Hero  she 
might  stay  through  all  the  morning,  alone.  It  was 
not  her  turn  to  take  the  girls  to  church,  and  her  ab- 
sence would  not  be  remarked  upon. 

"  My  dear  Katey,"  the  letter  said,  "  how  dreadful  it 
is  that  Dacrc  Home  should  be  involved  in  that  bank 


200 


KATHERINE  EARLE. 


affair  !  I  really  can  think  of  nothing  else.  The  cash- 
ier told  Robert  that  he  doubted  if  it  could  be  proved 
that  he  was  one  of  the  gang ;  but  there  was  no  doubt 
about  it  in  his  own  mind.  They  have  caught  some  of 
them,  as  you  may  have  heard.  I  cannot  but  hope 
he  may  escape,  however.  It  would  be  so  painful  for 
the  family  —  even  if  he  were  not  convicted.  And  to 
think  we  have  known  him  so  well !  Of  course,  now, 
we  shall  never  see  him  again.  I  am  sorry  we  met  him 
so  often  at  the  sea-side ;  indeed,  I  regret  that  he  ever 
came  there  at  all.  I  used  to  fancy  sometimes  that  he 
was  fond  of  yon ;  I  fairly  shudder  at  the  thought ;  and 
yet,  how  foolish  to  refer  to  it;  I  was  mistaken,  of 
course.  But  how  shocking  it  is  !  Where  he  is  now, 
no  one  knows.  It  is  supposed  that  he  has  escaped  to 
Canada.  But  enough  of  this ;  "  and  she  proceeded  to 
speak  of  other  matters,  which  were  as  sticks  and 
straws  to  poor  Katey,  who  stared  at  the  words,  taking 
in  nothing  of  their  meaning.  As  to  the  first  part  of 
the  letter,  it  was  impressed  as  by  fire  upon  her  brain. 
They  all  condemned  him ;  they  all  believed  him  guilty ; 
but  there  rose  within  her  a  conviction,  a  blessed  con- 
viction, without  which  she  felt  she  must  have  fallen 
where  she  stood,  that  he  had  spoken  the  truth  to  her 
the  night  before,  and  that  he  was  innocent.  Nothing 
should  shake  her  in  this  belief. 

And  Dclphine  had  fancied  he  was  fond  of  her ;  but 
iirknowledged  now  that  she  had  been  mistaken  !  Del- 
phine,  who  had  encouraged  him ;  who  had  talked  to 
IKT  <>f  how  cruel  society  had  been  to  this  handsome 
boy ;  who  had  sat  through  all  the  long  summer  days 
with  her  hands  folded  in  her  lap,  giving  countenance 
to  the  pretty  play  which  seemed  to  end  like  a  tragedy ; 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  201 

who  had  even  pleaded  with  her  for  him !  Had  she 
forgotten  it  all  ?  In  truth,  poor  Delphine  had  written 
from  her  perplexity  and  self-reproach,  hoping,  by  ignor- 
ing the  past,  to  warn  her  of  the  future,  if,  indeed, 
warning  were  necessary.  But  she  misjudged  Katey. 
To  one  who  has  enlisted  heart  and  soul  in  a  warfare, 
the  time  to  waver  is  not  when  the  foe  appears ;  to  one 
who  has  really  taken  upon  himself  vows,  the  time  to 
doubt  is  not  when  the  rack  is  brought  out.  She  would 
never  desert  him  now. 

She  folded  up  the  letter,  and  laid  it  away.  She  was 
dizzy  and  ill,  —  and  yet  she  must  not  be  ill.  She  must 
see  him  to-night,  at  any  cost.  She  would  rest  now ; 
and  she  crept  into  bed,  forcing  herself  to  compose  her 
body  and  close  her  eyes,  and  so  she  lay  through  all 
the  long  morning.  Sleep  was  impossible ;  but  she 
would  rest,  she  said  over  and  over  again.  Clary  came 
at  noon,  and  brought  a  cup  of  tea,  and  at  night  she 
rose  and  dressed  herself,  and  went  down  with  the 
others. 


202  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

A   CHAIN  TO  WEAR. 

YOU  arc  going  out ! "    exclaimed  Clary,  in  a 
,  tone  of  disappointment,  as  Katey  passed  her 
open  door,  an  hour  after  tea,  dressed  for  the  street. 

"  Yes,"  Katey  replied.  She  would  not  say  "  to 
church,"  though  the  words  sprang  to  her  lips.  She 
felt  that  she  should  not  go  to  church.  Then  she  went 
on  hurriedly,  lest  Clary  should  question  her  further. 
As  she  crossed  the  music-room,  the  door  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  which  led  to  the  dormitories  above, 
opened,  and  some  one  brushed  past  her.  It  was  Miss 
Wormley,  attired  in  her  hat  and  shawl,  and  evidently 
on  her  way  to  the  street.  The  sight  brought  a  mo- 
mentary surprise,  for  Miss  Wormley,  Katey  knew, 
was  in  the  habit  of  gathering  the  girls  upon  her  hall 
into  a  Bible  class  Sabbath  evenings.  The  library  was 
empty,  the  door  of  the  school- parlor  was  half  open  ; 
before  one  of  the  windows  stood  Miss  Wormley,  who 
had  not  yet  gone  out,  fastening  her  glove.  But  Katey 
did  not  glance  in.  She  opened  the  outer  door,  and  de- 
scended the  high  steps.  No  one  was  in  sight;  the 
sky  was  overcast,  and  already  the  twilight  had  gath- 
ered. What  if  she  should  miss  him,  after  all  ?  She 
moved  slowly  up  the  street,  hearing  the  faint  echo  of 
a  step  behind  her.  Did  it  follow  her  ?  It  drew  nearer, 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  203 

gaining  upon  her  each  moment.  It  was  Dacre,  she 
knew  now,  and  turned  to  meet  him.  He  took  her 
hand  and  laid  it  in  his  arm  without  speaking.  Even 
in  the  dim  light  she  could  see  how  haggard,  and  worn, 
and  changed  was  his  face.  He  was  hunted,  she 
knew.  Even  now  his  pursuers  might  be  upon  his 
track.  Involuntarily  she  drew  near  to  him.  Lights 
were  beginning  to  shine  in  the  windows  along  the 
street,  where  the  curtains  were  not  yet  drawn.  There 
were  mothers  with  children  in  their  arms,  there  were 
children  alone,  and  once  she  caught  a  glimpse  of  two 
lovers,  sitting  within  the  circle  of  soft  light,  with 
clasped  hands  and  heads  bent  close  together,  —  while 
Dacre  and  she  wandered  on  up  the  deserted  street  in 
the  dreary  darkness.  Did  he  wait  for  her  to  speak  ? 

"  I  have  had  a  letter  from  Delphine,"  she  said,  at 
last. 

Her  hand  was  within  his  arm.     She  felt  him  start. 

"  She  told  a  hard  story,  I'll  warrant,"  he  said,  dog- 
gedly. 

"  She  told  no  story  at  all.  She  referred  to  —  to 
what  had  happened,  as  though  I  knew  it  already ;  and 
she  said  —  " 

"  That  I  did  it,"  broke  in  Dacre.  «  I  had  nothing  to 
do  with  it.  I  tell  you,  Katey,  I  knew  nothing  at  all 
about  it  until  it  was  over." 

Some  one  passing  upon  the  other  side  of  the  street 
paused,  as  if  to  listen,  as  the  excited  voice  rose  above 
the  stillness  of  the  Sabbath  night.  • 

"  0,  come  away  ; "  and  Katey  hastened  her  steps. 
"  Do  come  away  j  "  and  she  drew  him  on  up  the  street. 
Had  some  one  followed  them  ?  But  no ;  the  step 
sounded  again  upon  the  walk,  over  the  way,  slowly 
retreating. 


204  KATHERINE   EARLE. 

"What  did  she  say,  then?  " 

"  That  you  were  suspected." 

"  But  I  was  ten  miles  from  the  place." 

"  Then  why  was  your  name  mentioned  ?  " 

"  Because  I  had  been  seen,  occasionally,  with  Blake 
and  Dugan,  who  were  caught." 

So  these  were  his  associates  !  A  companion  of 
thieves  ! 

"  And  these  were  your  friends  !  "  she  said.  "  0, 
Dacre  !  Dacre  ! " 

"  Yes,  I  know,"  he  answered,  moodily,  "  you  are 
prejudiced,  like  every  one  else.  But  a  man  must  have 
some  friends,  and  they  are  not  so  bad,  after  all.  Poor 
Katey  I "  he  went  on,  more  gently.  "  I  would  have 
kept  it  from  you  if  I  could.  I  might,  but  for  Del- 
phine's  cursed  interference.  The  world  has  cast  me 
off,  Katey.  I  stand  upon  one  side,  and  you  upon  the 
other.  There  is  a  sea  between  us." 

"  Because  you  have  drifted  away.  Come  back.  O, 
it  is  so  cruel !  it  breaks  my  heart !  "  she  cried.  They 
had  gone  on  without  aim  or  purpose,  turning  into  one 
street  after  another,  and  descending  the  hill  again  at 
last.  The  wall  of  the  school  garden,  which  Dacre  had 
scaled  the  night  before,  rose  beside  them  now.  Ka- 
tey's  violent  sobs  attracted  the  attention  of  a  plainly- 
dressed  woman,  who  looked  back  as  she  passed. 
Dacre  drew  her  across  the  street,  where  no  flaring 
light  lit  up  the  darkness.  Here  was  a  church  in  pro- 
cess of  erection.  The  confusion  of  brick  and  stone 
rendered  the  walk  almost  impassable.  They  threaded 
their  tortuous  way  to  the  great  arched  door,  where 
they  could  find  a  shelter  and  a  screen.  Katey  sank 
down  upon  the  stone  threshold,  and  buried  her  head 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  205 

in  her  arms.  "  Don't,"  Dacre  said,  impatiently,  laying 
a  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder  ;  "  I  hate  to  see  a  wo- 
man cry." 

She  strove  hard  to  control  herself.  She  raised  her 
face,  all  wet  with  tears.  "  It  was  the  disappointment 
and  the  pain,"  she  said.  "  I  thought  it  would  be  dif- 
ferent, and  it  is  so  dreadful  to  bear  !  Try  to  be  patient 
with  me,  Dacre  ;  it  is  all  so  dreadful  to  bear  I " 

"  Why  don't  you  curse  me,  and  wash  your  hands  of 
me,  then,  like  the  rest  of  them  ?  " 

He  did  not  mean  to  be  cruel ;  he  was  beside  himself 
with  remorse  and  anxiety,  and  a  shame  he  would  not 
own. 

"  How  could  I  ?  "  she  replied,  with  a  kind  of  wonder 
in  her  eyes. 

His  face  dropped  into  his  hands.  He  was  not 
ashamed  to  be  ashamed  at  last.  "  I  am  not  worth  one 
of  your  tears,"  he  said.  "  I'll  tell  you  the  truth  now, 
if  never  again :  You  are  wild  to  care  for  me.  It  can 
bring  you  nothing  but  unhappiness.  Forget  that  you 
ever  knew  me  ;  leave  me  to  go  to  my  own  place  alone. 
I  shall  find  it  soon  enough,"  he  added,  bitterly. 

"  It  is  too  late  for  that,  unless  —  are  you  tired  of 
me,  Dacre  ?  Am  I  a  burden  to  you  ?  " 

"  Tired  of  you  !  Good  God  Katey !  don't  tempt  a 
man.  Think  a  moment.  Let  me  be  honest  with  you  for 
once.  Think  what  all  this  will  bring  upon  you.  If  you 
keep  faith  with  me,  there  will  be  a  secret  to  carry,  — 
for  years,  perhaps  ;  and  what  a  reward  at  last !  —  to 
bear  my  name  and  share  in  my  disgrace  !  " 

She  shook  her  head.     "  I  cannot  give  you  up." 

"  Then  come  away  with  me  !  "  he  exclaimed,  stretch- 
ing out  his  arms  to  her.  "  Marry  me  to-night.  Be- 


206  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

fore  morning  I  must  be  miles  from  here.  What  do 
you  care  for  those  stupid  prigs  over  there?"  mo- 
tioning towards  the  school.  "  What  are  they  to  you  ? 
Nothing  at  all.  Jack  and  Delphine  have  their  own 
interests  ;  you  are  alone  in  the  world.  Come  ! " 

Why  should  she  not  ?  Had  not  Delphine  made  the 
path  plain  before  her  feet  ?  And  Jack  was  lost  to  her 
now ;  he  had  Josie  Durant.  As  for  the  disgrace  that 
would  follow  —  the  handsome,  passionate,  pleading 
face,  turned  towards  her  with  the  outstretched  hands, 
made  that  to  weigh  as  a  straw  only  in  the  balance. 
There  are  moments  when  the  world  seems  to  drop 
away,  leaving  two  to  stand  alone,  —  moments  when 
worldly  opinions  count  for  nothing.  How  would  it  be 
with  him  ?  How  with  her  ?  That  was  ah1. 

"  Teh1  me,"  she  said,  "  should  we  go  alone,  you  and 
I  ?  Where  are  these  men  whom  Delphine  wrote  were 
with  you  ?  " 

He  hesitated.  "  Yes,  we  should  go  alone.  At  least, 
you  need  never  see  or  know  them." 

She  caught  his  arm  in  sudden  terror.  "  They  are 
taking  you  away  ! "  she  said,  and  her  voice  was  like  a 
cry.  «  They  would  take  you  away  from  me  !  What 
could  I  do  against  them  ?  0,  stay  and  face  it  all.  If 
you  love  me,  stay.  I  would  never  desert  you,  not 
even  at  the  worst." 

"  But  you  don't  know,  —  you  don't  realize.  Why, 
Katey,  they  might  put  me  in  prison  ! " 

"  How  could  they,  if  you  were  innocent  ?  Or,  if 
they  did,  it  would  not  be  for  long.  There  are  worse 
fates  than  prisons  over  innocent  men.  We  wouldn't 
mind  it ; "  and  she  drew  near  to  him  as  she  spoke. 
'•  Perhaps,  then,  these  dreadful  people  who  lead  you 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  207 

on  would  forget  you.  And,  after  a  while,  we  would 
come  out/'  she  said,  almost  brightly,  "  and  go  away 
somewhere,  the  world  is  so  wide,  you  know  ;  we'd  go 
away  where  no  one  knew  us,  and  begin  again.  Or,  if 
we  chose,  since  you  are  innocent,  we  need  not  be 
ashamed  to  stay,  and  live  it  down." 

"  You  true  girl !  "  But  he  turned  away  from  her 
"  It  cannot  be.  I  told  you,  Katey,  there  was  a  sea 
between  us ;  and  well  for  you.  You  are  right,"  he 
added,  sadly ;  "  it  would  be  madness  for  you  to  go  with 
me.  I  was  a  wretch  to  ask  it." 

A  man  had  been  moving  back  and  forth  upon  the 
opposite  side  of  the  street,  so  stealthily  that  they  had 
not  noticed  him.  As  they  stepped  out  from  the 
arched  doorway,  he  went  on  slowly,  giving  a  low,  pe- 
culiar whistle.  Dacre  started.  "  I  must  go,"  he  said. 
Again  the  signal  came.  It  caught  Katey 's  ear.  "Do 
they  call  you ?"  she  gasped,  growing  white.  "Have 
they  come  for  you?  0,  don't  go.  Don't  go.  I'll  do 
anything,  go  anywhere,  only  don't  let  them  take  you 
away."  She  threw  her  arms  about  his  neck,  as  though 
her  feeble  strength  could  hold  him. 

"  Hush,  hush  !  it  is  too  late  for  that :  "  and  he  strove 
gently  to  free  himself.  "  Hush,  child  ;  poor  girl !  Be 
brave,  Katey,  for  I  must  leave  you  now."  The  street 
was  beginning  to  fill  with  people.  The  churches  were 
out.  Katey  heard  the  moving  feet  upon  the  walk. 
She  raised  her  white  face.  "  Then  you  will  go,"  she 
said,  with  strange  calmness. 

"  I  must ;  "  and  she  pleaded  no  more.  . 

As  they  passed  up  the  side  street  leading  to  the 
house,  followed  by  the  dusky  figure  which  had  been 
groping  along  in  the  shadow  of  the  wall,  a  woman's 


208  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

skirt  brushed  them.  A  dull,  pallid  face,  with  blinking, 
red-rimmed  eyes,  was  turned  towards  them  for  an  in- 
stant, as  Miss  Wormley  hastened  by. 

0,  what  did  Katey  care  if  they  all  saw  her  —  if  they 
all  knew  ?  Nothing,  at  this  moment.  "  Leave  me 
here,"  she  said,  when  they  had  reached  the  corner. 
She  could  see  that  crouching  figure  over  the  way,  — 
like  an  evil  spirit  dogging  their  footsteps.  But  Dacre 
went  on  to  the  high  stone  steps.  "  If  they  see  me 
from  the  house,  they'll  only  think  you  have  a  friend, 
Katey.  They  will  never  imagine  that  I  am  your  worst 
enemy,"  he  added,  bitterly. 

The  figure  over  the  way  moved  out  from  the  shadow 
of  the  doorway,  where  it  had  been  hidden,  and  crossed 
the  street  towards  them.  Katey  clutched  Dacre's 
arm.  He,  too,  saw  it  draw  near.  The  last  moment 
had  come,  the  parting  more  cruel  than  death  —  holding 
out  no  hope  for  the  future.  He  caught  her  cold  hands 
in  his  as  she  stood  upon  the  steps  above  him.  "  Kiss 
me,  Katey,"  he  said,  hoarsely.  She  heeded  neither  the 
figure  moving  towards  them,  nor  the  passers  upon  the 
street.  The  windows  of  the  house  might  be  opened 
wide.  What  did  it  matter  to  her  though  all  the  world 
should  see  ?  She  stooped  and  kissed  him.  "  My  heart 
will  break,"  she  said.  Then  in  a  moment  he  was  gone, 
the  door  had  closed  upon  her,  and  she  was  flying,  as 
though  pursued,  through  the  house,  across  the  ve- 
randa, up  the  stairs  to  her  own  room. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  209 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

FAB  FROM  THE  EYES,  FAB  FROM  THE  HEART  I 

THE  days  were  shortening  now,  and  growing  cold. 
A  rime  covered  the  grass  of  the  garden  in  the 
early  morning.  The  elms  had  scattered  all  their 
leaves,  and  the  Virginia  creeper  against  the  wall 
moved  thin,  bare  arms  in  the  chilling  autumn  wind. 
The  wide  veranda  was  deserted.  The  girls  gathered, 
after  school  hours,  about  the  high  stove  in  the  music- 
room,  or  in  the  wide  dormitory  halls.  In  the  class- 
rooms everything  moved  on  with  tedious  regularity. 
Katey  discharged  her  duties  with  conscientious 
fidelity,  the  more  from  knowing  how  little  of  her 
heart  was  in  them.  0,  the  inexpressible  anxiety  and 
yearning  of  these  days  !  like  that  of  the  apostle,  who 
could  wish  himself  accursed  for  the  sake  of  his  breth- 
ren. It  seemed  to  her  that  she  could  have  borne  the 
torments  of  the  lost,  if  by  that  means  Dacre  might  be 
drawn  from  the  dangers  which  surrounded  him.  He 
had  disregarded  her  prayers  and  tears  ;  he  had  chosen 
to  go  away  from  her ;  he  had  deliberately  taken  up 
with  a  life  which  must  lead,  sooner  or  later,  to  crime. 
He  had  joined  hands  with  those  who  set  themselves 
against  society,  who  hold  that  any  weapons  are  lawful 
and  fair  in  the  warfare  they  wage  with  authority  — 
and  yet  she  could  not  give  him  up.  She  looked  forward 
14 


210  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

to  no  happy  future,  she  saw  no  light  in  the  darkness, 
and  yet  she  held  fast  to  her  promise  and  to  him.  She 
could  bear  not  to  be  happy,  she  could  miss  of  blessed- 
ness, if  she  could  only  rescue  him  from  the  snares 
which  held  him.  So  far  she  had  failed  of  accomplish- 
ing her  desire.  She  had  done  what  she  could,  and  it 
had  not  availed.  She  knew  nothing  of  him  now.  He 
had  written  one  brief  note,  post-marked  she  could  not 
tell  where,  full  of  self-reproach  for  the  wrong  he  was 
doing  her,  but  with  no  hint  or  suggestion  of  plans, 
associates,  or  surroundings.  To  this  she  had  replied 
at  once,  as  he  desired  her  to  do,  under  cover  of  an- 
other name,  to  a  town  where  she  was  confident  he 
was  not. 

A  month  had  passed  since  then,  and  she  had  heard 
nothing.  She  could  do  nothing  but  wait  —  arid  pray. 
She  had  read  of  men  turned  in  the  midst  of  their  sins 
by  a  mighty  arm.  Was  it  not  possible  now  ?  0,  if 
she  could  but  have  the  faith  to  believe,  might  it  not 
be  so  ?  Many  times  in  the  day  she  breathed  her  lit- 
urgy of  confession  and  supplication.  It  bore  always 
the  same  burden,  but  yet  lost  never  its  fervent  spirit 
and  strong  desire.  But,  above  all,  did  she  not  forget 
it  at  church,  when  the  whole  congregation  knelt,  —  the 
girls  whispering  and  staring  though  upon  their  knees  ; 
it  seemed  as  though  He  would  be  more  inclined  to 
hear  and  heed  when  the  minister  and  the  people  prayed 
together. 

Professor  Dyce  marked  her  in  these  days,  — a 
gray-clad  figure,  with  a  face  growing  whiter  and 
more  absorbed  every  day,  —  slipping  away  from  the 
table  before  he  had  left  his  place,  stealing  through 
the  music-room  in  the  early  twilight  like  a  ghost,  too 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  211 

unreal  to  be  addressed,  who  would  vanish  away  if  ap- 
proached. 

She  seldom  came  down  now  to  the  Friday  even- 
ing readings  when  he  sat  in  the  desk ;  but  the  early 
morning  prayers,  when  the  letters  were  distributed, 
always  found  her  in  her  place  —  one  of  the  last  desks 
in  the  room,  which  no  one  of  the  girls  had  chosen. 
He  felt  the  great  dark  eyes  fixed  upon  him  with  a 
painfully  eager  expression  as  he  turned  over  the  pile 
of  letters,  reading  the  name  upon  each  aloud  as  he 
spread  them  out.  He  knew  that  the  face  grew  still 
whiter,  the  lines  about  the  mouth  more  tense,  as 
one  after  another  was  laid  down,  even  to  the  last. 
Then  in  the  confusion,  as  the  girls  rose,  she  vanished 
away. 

He  knew  more  than  she  dreamed  of  his  knowing. 
He  had  never  forgotten  the  day  when  he  met  her  upon 
the  street  with  Dacre  Home,  when  her  face  told  its 
own  story.  "  Ah,  poor  girl,  is  it  so  ?  "  he  had  said  to 
himself,  struck  by  the  face,  and  knowing  Dacre  Home. 
He  had  been  inclined  to  think  his  pity  wasted  when 
he  met  her  again,  decked  out  so  fantastically  at  the 
Junction  ;  and  yet,  later,  when  she  appeared  so  unex- 
pectedly at  the  school,  when,  too  bewildered  to  act, 
he  had  waited  and  watched,  he  had  been  inclined  to 
doubt  again  his  judgment.  Now,  reading  of  this  bank 
robbery,  which  had  been  blazoned  to  the  world 
through  the  newspapers,  and  being  privately  advised 
that  Dacre  Home  was  implicated,  though  his  name 
had  not  appeared,  he  thought,  first  of  all,  of  the  effect 
upon  this  inexplicable  girl.  Ho  marked  her  uneasi- 
ness the  night  of  the  school  reception,  he  missed  her 
from  the  room,  and  overheard  Miss  Wormley's  inali- 


212  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

cious  comments  upon  her  return.  He  even  interfered 
to  rid  her  of  them,  pitying  her  confusion.  He  hated 
himself  for  unconsciously  watching  her ;  he  hated  Miss 
Wormley  still  more  for  slyly  underrating  her  at  every 
opportunity.  The  morning  after  passing  Katey  and 
Dacre  upon  the  street  that  Sabbath  evening,  when,  in 
fact,  suspecting  something,  and  following  her,  she  had 
seen  the  meeting,  heard  Katey's  irrepressible  sobs, 
and,  peering  from  the  darkened  windows  of  the  school 
parlor,  been  shocked  at  the  manner  in  which  they 
parted,  —  Miss  Wormley  sought  Professor  Dyce,  and, 
in  the  absence  of  the  president,  laid  the  whole  matter 
before  him. 

He  heard  her  general  remarks  without  suspect- 
ing their  bearing,  —  her  observations  upon  teachers 
who  were  given  to  clandestine  meetings  in  the  gar- 
den, who  wept  upon  the  shoulders  of  young  men,  and 
kissed  them  voluntarily  at  parting,  —  yes,  actually 
kissed  them  from  the  very  steps  of  the  house,  where 
any  one  might  see.  Then,  at  last,  she  spoke  Katey's 
name. 

The  professor  was  sitting  before  the  desk  in  his 
study.  He  had  laid  down  his  pen  reluctantly  to  listen 
to  her  story.  Complaints  from  Miss  Wormley 's  lips 
were  by  no  means  rare,  and  he  gave  little  heed  to 
what  she  was  saying.  But  at  the  mention  of  this  name 
he  flushed  so  fierce  a  red,  he  sprang  so  suddenly  to 
his  feet,  that  she  started  back  in  dismay. 

"  Woman  ! "  he  said,  in  a  startling  voice,  "  have  you 
no  shame  ?  What  are  Miss  Earle's  friends  to  you  or 
me,  that  we  should  play  the  spy  upon  her?"  He 
pointed  to  the  door,  and  she  went  out,  but  not  before 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  213 

she  had  turned,  in  her  anger  at  being  foiled,  and  vowed 
to  be  revenged. 

The  professor  paced  the  floor  with  rapid  strides 
when  the  door  closed  after  her.  He  tried  not  to  recall 
what  she  had  said ;  but  every  word,  carelessly  as  he 
had  heard  it,  stood  out  now  as  though  in  alto-relievo. 
The  various  circumstances  wove  themselves  together 
in  his  mind,  and  it  was  Dacre  Home,  he  knew,  whom 
Miss  Wormley  had  seen  with  Katey.  Was  the  girl 
bereft  of  her  senses  ?  Had  she  no  friends  to  warn 
her? 

The  wind  and  rain  beat  dismally  against  the  win- 
dow-panes of  the  school-room,  where,  in  the  chill,  gray 
morning  light,  the  girls  had  gathered  for  prayers,  the 
curls  pinned  up  hastily,  the  pretty  feminine  fineries 
not  yet  assumed,  as  one  after  another  straggled  down 
from  the  dormitories  above,  or  ran  across  the  veranda 
from  the  other  house. 

A  tall,  slight  figure,  wrapped  in  a  little  red  shawl, 
stole  down  the  broad,  winding  stairs  at  the  end  of  the 
room,  and  took  its  accustomed  place  before  one  of  the 
last  desks,  as  Professor  Dyce,  moving  the  pile  of  wait- 
ing letters  aside,  opened  the  Bible  before  him  to  find 
the  morning  lesson. 

Katey  closed  her  eyes,  and,  compressing  her  lips, 
waited.  It  would  be  a  long  chapter,  —  fifty  verses, 
perhaps,  which  the  girls  would  drone  responsively,  — 
about  the  Jews  ;  for  the  morning  lessons  were  from 
the  Old  Testament ;  and  the  Jews  seemed  so  far 
away  !  She  waited  for  the  voice  to  begin  —  to  hear 
how  such  a  king  slew  his  thousands,  and  another  his 
tens  of  thousands.  0,  how  could  she  wait  ?  God  for- 
give her,  she  did  not  want  to  hear  of  the  triumphs  of 


214  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

His  people ;  she  only  wanted  in  her  own  hands  for  a 
moment  that  pile  of  little  white  forget-me-nots,  lying 
upon  the  desk. 

The  professor's  voice  —  solemn,  deep,  low  —  made 
a  hush  to  fall  upon  the  room.  "  Little  children,  let  no 
man  deceive  you;  He  that  doeth  righteousness  is 
righteous,  even  as  He  is  righteous.  He  that  commit- 
teth  sin  is  of  the  devil." 

Katey's  heart  stood  still.  This  was  not  the  Jews. 
She  raised  her  head  and  fixed  her  wistful  eyes  upon 
the  reader.  If  there  would  only  come  some  word  to 
her !  "  He  that  committeth  sin  is  of  the  devil."  Not 
Dacre  —  it  could  not  mean  Dacre  ! 

Again  the  words  caught  her  ear,  "  Hereby  perceive 
we  the  love  of  God,  because  he  laid  down  his  life  for 
us;  and  we  ought  to  lay  down  our  lives  for  the 
brethren." 

And  so  she  would  gladly,  God  knew.  Yes,  this  was 
for  her. 

Her  heart  was  lighter  than  it  had  been  for  weeks. 
Even  when  the  letters  were  taken  up,  and  the  names 
read  aloud  slowly,  though  the  blood  sprang  to  her  face 
as  her  heart  gave  a  great  throb,  she  tried  to  still  its 
beating.  "  I  can  wait,"  she  said  to  herself,  while  the 
flush  slowly  died  away  as  one  name  after  another  fell 
upon  her  ear.  "  It  will  come"  —  the  answer  to  the 
prayer.  The  girls  rose ;  there  was  confusion  slowly 
settling  into  silence  as  those  who  had  no  letters 
hastened  away,  and  the  others  soon  followed.  Katey 
lingered.  The  shadow  of  disappointment  had  fallen 
upon  her;  only  the  shadow,  not  the  heavy  weight 
which  had  crushed  her  during  so  many  weeks  that 
past.  "I  can  wait,"  she  was  saying  to  herself 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  215 

over  and  over  again.  The  answer  will  surely  come. 
But  if  it  could  be  soon  ! 

It  was  chilly  in  the  school-room,  and  disappointment 
is  a  chill.  She  wrapped  the  little  shawl  close  about 
her,  and  let  her  head  rest  again  upon  the  desk  as  it 
had  lain  in  prayer  time.  A  movement  at  the  farther 
end  of  the  room  interrupted  the  stillness.  She  raised 
her  head  quickly ;  she  had  thought  herself  alone.  It 
was  only  Professor  Dyce,  who  had  not  gone,  it  seemed. 
He  laid  the  papers  he  had  been  arranging  within  the 
desk,  turned  the  key,  and  descended  from  the  plat- 
form. As  he  did  so,  his  glance  fell  upon  Katey,  who 
had  risen,  undecided  by  which  mode  of  exit  she  should 
leave  the  room,  ashamed  to  make  use  of  the  stairs  be- 
hind her,  lest  she  should  appear  to  flee  from  him.  He 
decided  the  question  by  walking  directly  down  the 
aisle.  The  movement  was  so  deliberate,  that  she 
judged  him  to  have  a  conscious  purpose  in  seeking 
her.  It  was  something  in  regard  to  her  classes,  un- 
doubtedly, and  she  ran  them  over  hurriedly  in  her 
mind,  to  recall,  if  possible,  where  she  had  been  remiss 
or  failed  in  her  duty.  But  he  seemed  in  no  haste  to 
enter  upon  the  subject. 

"  You  have  appropriated  this  corner  to  yourself?  " 
he  began,  graciously,  making  a  slight  motion  with  his 
hand  for  Katey  to  resume  her  seat. 

"  I  come  here  sometimes  to  read ;  it  is  very  quiet 
out  of  school  hours,  when  the  girls  are  gone,"  she 
stammered,  thinking  what  a  refuge  this  place  had 
been.  But  of  that  she  could  not  speak. 

"  But  your  room  —  do  the  girls  intrude  upon  you 
there  ?  " 

"  They  are  always  welcome." 


216  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Yes,  I  know ;  "  arid  he  smiled  a  little  sarcastically. 
"  That  is  the  formula  one  is  expected  to  repeat.  Still 
there  is  a  limit  to  all  hospitality.  You  come  here  to 
read,"  he  repeated.  "  You  do  not  go  to  the  library, 
then?" 

"  0,  yes,  every  day,  to  look  over  the  news- 
papers," she  replied,  quickly.  Then  she  blushed, 
feeling  his  keen  eyes  upon  her.  Did  he  know  about 
Dacre  ? 

"  I  should  hardly  think  the  detail  of  crimes  and 
casualties  with  which  our  press  is  filled  just  now 
would  interest  you.  That  bank  robbery,  by  the  way, 
was  a  bold  operation.  Planned  and  executed  evi- 
dently by  experienced  burglars.  Strange  how  these 
outlaws  sit  before  the  gates  of  society,  ready  to  spring 
in  wherever  there  are  signs  of  weakness."  He  had 
removed  his  eyes  from  the  bent  head  and  trembling 
hands  which  held  tight  the  little  shawl.  "  What  can 
be  done  with  this  class  ?  "  he  added,  gently  —  "  ex- 
cept to  fight  and  keep  it  at  bay  ?  " 

The  question  so  vital  carried  the  girl  beyond 
herself.  "0,  what  can  be  done?"  she  repeated, 
eagerly,  forgetting  her  caution,  and  showing  all  her 
heart. 

"  Believe  me,  nothing  —  by  such  as  you,"  he  re- 
plied, earnestly  —  so  earnestly  that  she  could  not  fail 
to  comprehend  his  meaning.  "  Association  is  contami- 
nation ;  and  think  of  the  inequality :  it  is  one  against 
a  thousand.  For  they  are  banded  together  like -an 
army." 

A  strange  light  shone  in  Katey's  face,  as  though  the 
sun  had  risen  suddenly  upon  her.  One  against  a  thou- 
sand !  But  one  and  God  could  overcome  a  thousand. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  217 

He  wondered  what  should  cause  the  radiance  in 
her  countenance.  Certainly  not  his  words.  He  could 
not  understand  the  girl. 

The  first  mutterings  of  the  distant  gong  reached 
their  ears.  Katey  rose  hastily,  and  with  a  little  obei- 
sance slipped  away  up  the  stairs  behind  her. 


218  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

"  AND   ONE  WAS   FAR   APART,   AND    ONE  WAS   NEAR." 

HTHE  Christmas  holidays  brought  a  change;  many 
J-  of  tlio  girls  went  home;  Jack's  wedding  called 
Katey  to  Easton,  where  was  Josie  Duraut's  home. 
She  was  sitting  in  Josie's  own  room  after  the  cere- 
mony, in  the  midst  of  the  confusion  incident  upon  a 
wedding,  a  journey,  and  a  final  departure  from  home. 
The  satin  gown,  fluffy  with  lace,  the  delicate  veil  and 
wreath  of  orange  blossoms,  prepared  with  such  care, 
were  thrown  carelessly  now  upon  the  bed  ;  the  dainty 
slippers,  iu  which  the  dainty  little  lady  had  stepped 
from  familiar  girl-land  over  the  boundary  into  a  strange 
and  wonderful  country,  dropped  where  the  little  feet 
had  left  them.  The  bride  was  arrayed  in  her  travel- 
ling costume,  for  the  wedding  breakfast  was  over, 
and  the  guests,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  most 
familiar  friends,  had  gone.  She  was  putting  the  last 
touches  to  her  toilet  at  this  moment,  settling  the 
elegant  liUlo  bonnet  upon  her  head,  and  fastening  her 
gloves.  "  Please,  Katey,"  she  said,  holding  out  her 
\vrist. 

"  It  brings  back  the  first  time  I  ever  saw  you,  to 
y.,u  at  all,"  Katey  said,  taking  the  little  hand  in 
her  own.  "  I  buttoned  your  glove  then  —  do  you  re- 
member ?  The  night  of  Janie  Home's  party." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  219 

"  How  odd  that  you  should  ha,ve  remembered  such 
a  little  thing,"  Josie  replied.  "  No,  I  don't  recall  it. 
But  I  remember  Jack  and  you.  Who  ever  would 
have  thought  then  that  Jack  and  I  would  grow  up  to 
marry  each  other?  "  Josie  was  little  given  to  dream- 
ing, but  she  fell  into  a  reverie  over  this. 

"  It  is  all  strange,"  said  Katey ;  and  there  was  a 
tone  of  sadness  in  her  voice.  Josie  gave  her  a  sharp, 
anxious  glance. 

"  Are  you  quite  well,  dear  ?  " 

"  0,  yes." 

"  I  fancied  you  were  thinner  than  you  used  to  be." 
She  crossed  the  room  upon  some  pretext.  When  she 
returned,  she  paused  behind  Katey's  chair,  and,  leaning 
over,  clasped  the  little  gloved  hands  loosely  about  her 
neck.  "  There  is  something  I  have  wanted  to  speak 
of  ever  since  you  came.  But  the  house  has  been  so 
full  of  company  that  we  have  never  had  a  moment 
alone." 

Katey  made  no  reply.  She  had  looked  for  this,  and 
braced  herself  to  meet  it,  every  day  since  her  arrival. 
She  had  ceased  to  expect  it  now,  believing  the  whole 
matter  to  have  slipped  from  the  mind  of  her  friend. 

"  You  have  heard  of  that  bank  robbery,  of  course," 
Josie  went  on,  timidly,  feeling  her  way,  as  it  were. 
"  And  you  know  what  is  said  of  Dacre  ?  " 

"  But  it  is  not  true,"  Katey  burst  out.  "  There  is 
no  truth  in  it.  He  was  miles  away  when  the  bank  was 
broken  into ;  "  and  freeing  herself  hastily,  she  rose  up 
and  walked  away  to  the  window. 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Josie's  face  fairly  paled 
with  affright.  "  0,  Katey  !  You  have  not  seen  him  ?  " 

But  Katey  had  made  her  denial,  and  would  say  no 


220  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

more.  She  had  promised  to  keep  his  visit  a  secret. 
Had  she  not  almost  broken  that  promise  in  her  eager- 
ness to  defend  him  ?  There  was  the  rattle  of  wheels 
under  the  window.  Jack  tapped  at  the  door.  "  The 
carriage,  Josie.  Are  you  ready  ?  " 

"  Yes,  in  one  moment." 

She  drew  Katey's  face  down  and  kissed  her.  "  You 
will  not  trust  me,  but—  tell  Jack,"  she  said. 

Katey  shook  -her  head  without  speaking.  Her  eyes 
were  full  of  tears. 

"  But  you  have  seen  him  ?  "  persisted  Josie. 

"  Don't  ask  me ;  I  can't  tell  you ;  "  and  yet  was  this 
not  almost  admitting  the  truth  ?  "  There  is  nothing  to 
tell,"  she  added,  hastily. 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  I  don't  know,  indeed.  But  0, 1  wish  I  did  1 "  she 
exclaimed,  breaking  down  at  last,  and  sobbing  out- 
right. 

"  0,  dear !  what  can  I  do  ?  "  Josie  stared  at  her, 
troubled  and  helpless,  as  a  chorus  of  voices  from  be- 
low called  to  her  impatiently. 

"  There  is  nothing  to  do,"  Katey  said,  checking  her 
sobs.  "  Don't  think  of  it  again." 

"  But  I  am  afraid  to  go  away.  I  don't  know  what 
may  happen  to  you." 

"Nothing  dreadful,  you  may  be  sure,"  Katey  re- 
plied, with  a  hysterical  laugh.  She  was  angry  and 
ashamed  at  having  thus  betrayed  her  feelings.  "  I 
shall  neither  run  away  nor  drown  myself,  you  may  be 
sure ;  nor  do  anything  else  unusual.  I  am  only  tired 
and  nervous.  Don't  think  about  it ; "  and  she  has- 
tened to  open  the  door. 

Tears  are  by  no  means  unusual  at  a  wedding,  and 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  221 

Katey's  wet  eyes  passed  unnoticed.  Only  Jack 
marked  them,  and  reproached  himself  for  having  al- 
most forgotten  her  in  his  happiness.  "  Remember, 
you  are  to  come  and  live  with  us,"  he  said,  leaning 
out  from  the  carriage.  "Delphine,  do  keep  Katey; 
lock  her  in,  if  necessary,  until  we  return."  Then  the 
carriage  door  closed  with  a  bang,  and  in  a  gust  of 
slippers  the  wedding  party  disappeared. 

"  It  is  absurd,"  Delphine  said,  the  next  morning,  as 
they  sat  alone  over  the  early  breakfast, 'prepared  in 
anticipation  of  Katey's  departure  by  the  first  train. 
"  It  is  positively  unreasonable  for  you  to  tie  yourself 
to  that  horrid  school.  Think,  if  Robert  and  I  go 
abroad  next  month,  I  shall  not  see  you  again.  You 
might,  at  least,  go  home  with  me  for  a  week."  But 
Katey  felt  that  to  be  impossible.  The  term  would 
commence  the  next  day,  and  she  must  be  in  her  place. 
And  then,  how  did  she  know  what  had  occurred  in 
her  absence?  What  if  Dacre  had  come  again?  or 
there  might  be  at  least  a  letter  awaiting  her.  0,  no  ; 
she  must  go  back  at  once. 

"  Dreadful,  was  it  not,  about  Dacre  Home  ?  "  Del- 
phine remarked,  carelessly,  when  this  question  of  Ka- 
tey's return  to  school  had  been  discussed  and  settled, 
as  it  had  been  every  day  since  she  came. 

"  Yes,"  Katey  replied,  cautiously.  She  would  be 
wiser  than  she  had  been  with  Josie. 

"  I  was  so  glad  to  find  you  didn't  care  for  him," 
Delphine  went  on  in  her  pretty,  hurried  way.  "  I 
wouldn't  own  it  in  my  letter,  and  I  don't  quite  like  to 
own  it  now,  but  I  did  half  encourage  his  intimacy 
with  you."  She  had  made  her  confession  at  last. 

"  I  know  you  did,"  Katey  said,  quietly. 


222  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  And  if  you  had  learned  to  care  for  him,  I  should 
never  have  forgiven  myself.1' 

"  How  do  you  know  that  I  didn't  learn  to  care  for 
him  ?  "  was  on  her  lips  to  ask ;  but  she  held  back  the 
question.  Why  should  she  distress  Delphine,  who 
intended  it  all  for  good,  and  had  only  failed  in  judg- 
ment ?  StilF,  one  word  she  must  speak,  or  her  tongue 
would  utter  it  of  itself.  A  dangerous  word !  Never- 
theless, she  would  dare  much  to  defend  the  innocent 
and  the  absent. 

"  He  had  nothing  to  do  with  that  robbery,  I  know," 
she  began.  "  He  may  have  associated  with  these 
men  —  " 

"  Which  is  bad  enough,"  said  Mrs.  Estemere,  who 
had  not  only  lost  all  confidence  in  Dacre,  but  felt  her- 
self personally  ill  used  by  his  making  himself  thus 
shamefully  notorious  after  having  visited  at  her  house. 

"  It  is,  indeed,"  Katey  was  obliged  to  confess. 
"  Still  he  had  nothing  to  do  with  this,  I  am  sure." 

"  About  that,  of  course,  we  cannot  judge  ;  but  it  is  all 
so  thoroughly  mortifying  and  disagreeable  that  we  had 
better  try  to  forget  it  and  him ; "  and  Mrs.  Estemere 
rose  from  the  table. 

Mrs.  Durant  entered  the  room  at  the  same  moment, 
fortunately  for  Katey,  whose  prudence  was  fast  de- 
serting her ;  the  carriage  was  announced,  and  further 
conversation  was  out  of  the  question. 

Delphine  ran  down  the  icy  steps  in  her  pink-bowed 
slippers  for  one  more  last  word  at  the  carriage  door. 
"  If  I  shouldn't  see  you  again  before  we  sail,  you'll 
write  often,  and  you'll  take  care  of  yourself,  child  ? 
Don't  do  anything  foolish,  away  off  there.  There  are 
no  young  men  ?  " 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  223 

"  Only  one,"  laughed  Katey,  remembering  Mr. 
Milde. 

"  Ah,  well,  you  are  the  pattern  of  discretion."  She 
leaned  in  at  the  carriage  window  to  kiss  her  warmly, 
then  ran  away  up  the  steps  again. 

The  pattern  of  discretion !  If  she  only  knew ! 
thought  Katey,  lying  back  in  the  carriage  as  it  rolled 
away  to  the  station. 

It  was  almost  night  when  she  reached  La  Fayette 
and  the  Female  College.  One  of  the  little  girls  ran 
after  her  as  she  passed  the  study-hall,  to  put  a  letter 
into  her  hand.  She  had  not  been  sufficiently  brave  to 
walk  into  the  room  and  look  upon  the  desk  for  her- 
self; she  was  fairly  sick  with  anxiety.  She  took  the 
letter  without  glancing  at  it,  and  hastened  on.  But 
when  she  had  run  the  gantlet  of  teachers  and  scholars, 
and,  shut  into  her  own  room,  at  last  dared  to  turn  it 
over  and  read  its  superscription,  the  second  shock  was 
greater  than  the  first.  It  was  not  from  Dacre  at  all ; 
it  was  from  Mina  Hauser,  she  saw  at  once.  Only  a 
few  lines  written  in  haste  to  say  they  were  in  La 
Fayette  for  a  couple  of  days,  and  hoped  to  see  her. 
She  looked  at  the  date.  It  was  three  days  before. 
She  must  seek  them  at  once.  It  might  now  be  too 
late.  She  hastened  to  retrace  her  steps  through  the 
house,  ashamed  of  the  indifference  with  which  she 
had  read  Mina's  announcement.  But  the  disappoint- 
ment had  been  bitter.  She  was  dulled  to  everything 
save  this:  Where  was  Dacre?  Why  was  it  that  she 
heard  nothing  from  him  ?  Even  the  warm  greetings 
she  met  upon  the  way,  as  one  group  of*  girls  after 
another  was  passed,  brought  no  pleasure.  She  was 
ill,  and  cold,  and  despairing,  and  yet  she  went  on  to 


224  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

seek  her  friends.  There  is  an  instinct  which  takes 
the  place  of  volition  at  times,  and  sets  us  in  the  way 
where  we  ought  to  walk,  and  make  us  perform  the 
acts  expected  of  us,  pulling  the  wires,  and  holding  a 
mask  before  our  faces. 

She  found  the  little  hotel  from  which  the  letter  had 
been  written  in  one  of  the  narrow  streets  of  the  town, 
down  by  the  station.  She  was  just  in  time  ;  the  well- 
worn  trunks  were  strapped,  and  standing  in  the  en- 
trance hall.  Wulf  had  already  left  the  house,  Christine 
and  her  father  were  coming  down  the  stairs  on  their 
way  to  the  street. 

"  Ah,  is  it  possible  ?  "  cried  the  little  old  man.  "  We 
have  sent  twice  to  the  school  since  Mina  wrote,  and 
each  time  they  said  you  had  not  come  back." 

"  I  have  but  this  moment  returned,"  Katey  replied, 
warmly  kissing  Christine,  who  seemed  much  brighter 
and  stronger  than  when  they  met  last.  After  all,  it 
Avas  pleasant  to  see  them  again.  "  I  am  sorry,"  the 
little  old  man  went  on,  "  but  Christine  has  an  errand 
she  is  obliged  to  do  before  we  go,  and  we  have  no 
time  to  lose.  However,  Mina  is  here,  and  you  will 
stay  with  her  until  we  return." 

"Ah,  Katrine,  is  it  you?"  exclaimed  Mina,  flying 
down  the  dingy  stairway  to  embrace  her.  She 
dragged  her  up  the  stairs  to  the  stuffy  little  inn 
parlor,  chattering  all  the  time,  asking  a  hundred  ques- 
tions, and  waiting  for  no  one  of  them  to  be  answered. 
"  And  Christine  ?  "  Katey  said,  at  last,  when  they  had 
exhausted  every  other  subject  of  mutual  interest; 
when  Mina  had  described  their  wanderings  since  she 
wrote,  a  month  or  two  before,  and  mentioned  the  Shep- 
parts  incidentally,  but  with  a  vivid  blush  over  the 


.  -KATHERINE  EARLE.  225 

intelligence  that  Hans  had  won  his  place  in  the  or- 
chestra, and  was  coming  to  meet  them  at  their  next 
stopping-place. 

"  0,  Christine  is  better.  Don't  you  think  so  ?  And 
the  young  man  of  whom  I  told  you  has  been  to  see 
her.  I  cannot  understand  it,"  Mina  said,  thoughtfully, 
"  nor  him.  Something  evidently  weighed  upon  his 
mind.  I  overheard  him  once  reproaching  himself  to 
her.  He  wished  he  was  dead,  he  said ;  he  brought 
only  misery  and  wretchedness  to  everybody.  And 
now  he  has  gone  away  south.  I  don't  know  for  what. 
But  he  has  written  once  or  twice  to  Christine." 

"  Poor  Christine  !  "  Katey  thought,  «  she,  too,  has 
her  troubles," 

"  But,  0,  Katey  !  "  Mina  exclaimed,  "  I  had  almost 
forgotten  what  I  wanted  particularly  to  tell  you."  She 
went  to  the  door  and  listened  ;  then  she  came  back,  and 
drew  a  worn,  crumpled  envelope  from  her  pocket. 
Do  you  know,  I  feel  as  though  he  had  deceived  us  all 
the  time  as  to  his  name." 

"Why?" 

"  Because  I  picked  this  up  from  the  floor  one  day  ; 
it  had  fallen  from  his  pocket,  and  it  does  not  bear  his 
name  at  all." 

"  Perhaps  the  letter  was  not  addressed  to  him." 

"  But  why  should  he  have  it,  then  ?  I  don't  know ;  " 
and  she  shook  her  head  slowly.  "  The  handwriting  is 
like  yours,"  she  said,  suddenly  rousing  herself.  "  See  !  " 
and,  leaning  forward,  she  put  the  envelope  into  Katey's 
hand. 

"  Like  mine,  is  it  ?  "  Katey  said,  with  a  little  laugh, 
moving  towards  the  window,  so  that  the  faint,  last 
rays  of  daylight  might  fall  upon  it. 
15 


226  KATHERTNE  EARLE. 

But  the  laugh  died  in  her  throat.  Like  hers  ?  It 
was  the  cover  of  her  own  letter  !  And  the  name  she 
read,  while  everything  whirled  around  her,  was  — 
Dacre  Home ! 

11  Can't  you  make  it  out  ?  "  Mina  called,  from  her 
corner  by  the  fire.  "  I  ought  to  have  rung  for  lights ; 
but  we  were  going  so  soon." 

"  It  can't  be.  There  is  some  mistake,"  gasped 
Katey,  finding  her  voice  at  last. 

Mina  came  forward  slowly.  "  I  don't  know ;  it  is 
very  strange.  But  how  hoarse  you  are  !  I  did  not 
notice  it  before.  And  your  hands  are  like  ice.  You 
ought  not  to  have  come.  Sit  down  here,  and  warm 
yourself." 

But  Katey  began  in  a  flurried,  absent  way  to  fasten 
her  cloak.  "  No,  no,  I  must  go  back."  She  must  go 
while  she  could.  Presently,  when  she  realized  it  all, 
she.  should  drop  down  where  she  stood.  All  at  once 
she  paused.  "  Tell  me  about  him.  You  have  never 
described  him  to  me."  Perhaps  she  was  mistaken, 
after  all. 

"  Christine  has  his  picture.  I  wish  you  might  see 
it.  Who  knows?  You  may  meet  him  somewhere, 
and  learn  something  about  him.  He  is  tall  —  taller 
than  Wulf,  and  has  a  little  stoop  about  the  shoulders. 
His  hair  is  dark  like  yours,  and  his  face  is  smooth. 
Then  his  eyes  —  " 

"  Yes,"  Katey  said,  faintly,  "  I  know ;  now  I  will  go 
home." 

"  But  not  before  father  and  Christine  come  back  ?  " 

Christine?  Katey  had  forgotten  her.  Yes,  she 
must  get  away.  How  could  she  meet  her  ?  Some- 
thing like  pity  struggled  up  from  the  chaos  in  her 


KATI1ERINE  EARLE.  227 

mind  ;  or  was  it  an  instinct  of  caution  made  her  say 
at  the  very  last  moment,  when  she  left  Mina  down  at 
the  street  door,  "  Don't  tell  Christine  about  the  letter ; 
or  not  now,  at  least.  Let  us  think  about  it  first.  It 
may  all  come  right  yet ;  "  though  she  knew  already 
that  it  could  never  come  right  for  her.  And  Mina 
promised,  and  suffered  her  to  go,  sure  that  she  was 
ill,  but  not  at  all  suspicious  as  to  the  truth. 

The  wind  whirled  through  the  tortuous  streets,  and 
held  her  back  as  she  went  on.  The  lowering  clouds 
threw  stinging  showers  of  sleet  down  with  the  dark- 
ness ;  but  she  did  not  heed  it.  She  was  numb  to 
sound,  and  sight,  and  feeling.  It  might  have  been  a 
summer  night  for  all  she  knew.  She  had  but  one  de- 
sire, one  purpose :  to  get  back,  to  hide  from  every 
prying,  curious  eye,  and  then  —  ah,  no  matter  what 
came  then.  She  let  herself  in  at  the  door.  There 
were  voices  in  the  school  parlor ;  a  laugh  came  from 
across  the  hall.  She  hurried  on.  The  lights  burned 
dim  in  the  deserted  library ;  in  the  music-room  a 
group  of  girls  hung  about  one  of  the  pianos.  "  0, 
please,  come  and  play  for  us  to  dance,"  they  said.  To 
dance  !  She  murmured  something,  and  hastened  on. 
The  snow  had  fallen  through  the  day,  and  drifted  in 
upon  the  veranda.  How  cool  and  refreshing  it  was  to 
her  feet !  For  now  she  burned  as  with  an  inward  fire. 
Some  one  had  called  after  her  that  the  door  was 
closed,  she  must  go  the  other  way ;  but  she  had  not 
listened.  The  long  window  was  unfastened.  She 
would  not  go  back ;  but,  standing  in  the  snow,  made 
it  slide  up  at  her  touch.  "  The  long  window  opening 
upon  the  veranda  was  left  unfastened  last  night ;  did 
you  know  it?  "  Dacre  wrote  once.  She  remembered 


228  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

it  now  as  she  turned  the  spring.  The  school-room 
was  dark  and  silent.  She  felt  her  way  swiftly  down 
its  length  to  the  stairway  at  the  end,  which  led  up 
and  up  again  to  her  door. 

She  took  off  her  outside  garments,  and  hung  them 
in  their  place.  She  was  strangely  tired,  and  there 
was  a  weight  upon  her  brain.  Why  did  she  not 
feel  any  longer  this  which  had  so  shocked  and  dis- 
tressed her  ?  She  would  think  of  it  another  time  — 
in  the  morning ;  and  so  she  crept  to  bed. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  229 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

"I   AM   NOT  WELL   IN   HEALTH,   AND   THAT   IS   ALL." 

WAS  it  morning  ?  The  light  in  the  room  seemed 
dim  as  Katey  opened  her  eyes.  But  winter 
mornings  have  late  twilights.  It  must  be  time  to  rise. 
The  call  to  prayers  would  come  soon,  and  there  were 
the  letters  ! 

Some  one  moved  out  from  behind  the  head  of  the 
bed,  and  bent  over  her.  It  was  Clary  Luckiwinner, 
mopping  her  tear-stained  face  with  a  lace-edged  hand- 
kerchief. 

"Why,  Clary!" 

"  0,  then  you  know  me  at  last,  dear  Miss  Earle ! 
You  have  been  dreadfully  ill,  and  your  sister  is  here, 
and  —  but  0,  I  must  not  talk  to  you,"  she  broke  off, 
penitent  and  frightened. 

Katey  closed  her  eyes.  She  was  so  weak  that 
this  little  scene  exhausted  and  confused  her.  So  Del- 
phine  was  here  !  And  she  had  been  ill !  Slowly  her 
awakened  thoughts  travelled  back  to  the  point  where 
forgetfulness  began.  Then  she  hid  her  face  among 
the  pillows. 

Delphino  came  presently,  and  fed  her  with  broth, 
and  bade  her  go  to  sleep,  like  a  good  child.  She  could 
hear  the  girls  whispering  outside  the  door,  where  Clary 
had  gone  j  but  even  this  died  away  upon  her  ear,  and 


230  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

she  lost  herself  again.  How  long  a  time  passed  she 
did  not  know.  She  slept  and  woke,  and  slept  and  woke 
again.  Sometimes  it  was  daylight  upon  which  she 
opened  her  eyes,  and  sometimes  a  soft  glimmer,  as  from 
a  shaded  lamp,  filled  the  room ;  and  all  the  while  she  was 
slowly  coming  back  to  herself.  How  far  she  must  have 
wandered  in  the  darkness  !  Her  mind  was  growing 
clearer.  The  past  rose  up  before  her,  as  it  might, 
perhaps,  in  the  day  of  judgment,  when  every  secret 
thought,  as  well  as  deed,  would  stand  revealed.  It  had 
been  all  a  lie  from  the  beginning,  she  knew.  He  had 
come  to  her  with  a  vow  to  another  woman  upon  him. 
He  had  allowed  himself  to  fall  into  temptation.  He 
had  been  too  weak  to  go  away  when  safety  lay  only 
in  flight.  She  herself  had  led  him  on.  Unwittingly, 
she  had  been  a  snare  to  him,  knowing  nothing  of  the 
truth.  She  could  see  now  how  he  had  struggled, 
weakly.  "  I  am  your  bitterest  enemy,"  he  said.  Her 
bitterest  enemy  !  And  yet  she  did  not  hate  him.  At 
this  very  moment,  when  she  knew  how  false  he  had 
been,  she  felt  that  if  he  but  stood  in  the  door  and 
beckoned,  she  should  rise  and  follow  him.  0,  he  must 
not  come ;  she  must  never  see  him  again.  He  could  be 
nothing  to  her;  she  must  forget  him.  That  would 
have  been  easy  to  do  once ;  but  now  —  could  she  ever 
untangle  these  threads  which  had  knit  together  the 
two  lives  ? 

Derphme,  in  her  rich,  dark  dress,  with  pretty  shining 
ornaments  about  her  neck  and  at  her  ears,  sat  by  the 
little  table  holding  a  lamp,  knitting  a  hood  of  soft, 
white  wool.  She  rose  hastily  when  Katey  moved 
among  her  pillows. 

"  How  good  it  was  in  you  to  come  ! "  said  Katey 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  231 

stroking  her  hand,  when  she  had  submitted  to  being 
fed,  like  a  baby,  with  a  spoon.  Poor  Katey  !  Some- 
thing had  dropped  out  of  her  life,  leaving  it  empty  and 
bare.  It  seemed  all  at  once  as  though  the  world  were 
cruelly  cold.  The  least  kindness  was  a  surprise. 

"  Of  course  I  should  come  !  What  do  you  mean, 
child  ?  I  am  thankful  your  illness  occurred  when  it 
did,  and  not  a  month  later,  after  we  had  gone.  You 
don't  know  how  sick  you  have  been,  Katey." 

Delphine's  voice  quavered.  She  bent  over  her 
work. 

"  Did  Jack  know  ?  " 

"  I  wrote  a  despatch  for  him  one  day,  but  Robert 
said  we  had  best  not  send  it,  unless  —  She  did  not 
finish  the  sentence. 

So  they  had  thought  she  might  die  !  It  would  have 
been  better,  perhaps.  It  would  have  been  easier. 
Death  settles  many  a  vexed  question.  And  yet  there 
was  something  she  desired  to  do  first. 

"  Has  it  been  long  ?    Have  I  been  ill  a  long  time  ?  " 

"  Nearly  a  fortnight." 

"Have  —  have  I  had  any  letters,  do  you  know?" 
Her  voice  trembled,  in  spite  of  the  effort  to  speak 
calmly. 

"  Yes ;  Jack  and  Josie  have  both  written.  You 
shall  hear  their  letters  to-morrow." 

"  And  that  is  all,  —  you  are  sure?  There  might  be 
some  mistake." 

"  Yes,  0,  yes,  that  is  all." 

From  whom  did  the  child  expect  letters  ?  thought 
Delphine,.  carelessly.  It  was  a  sick  girl's  fancy,  and 
she  spoke  of  something  else.  But  Katey  did  not 
reply.  With  her  face  hidden  in  the  pillow,  she  was 


232  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

trying  to  stifle  the  great  pang  of  disappointment  which 
Delphine's  words  had  brought.  And  yet,  why  should 
she  be  disappointed  ?  Only  a  moment  before,  she  had 
been  alarmed  lest  he  had  written  to  her  with  tender 
words ;  and  then  where  would  her  strength  be  ?  She 
must  write  to  him  at  once ;  she  could  not  rest  or  sleep 
again  till  this  was  done.  If  she  could  only  throw  her 
arms  around  Delphine's  neck,  and  tell  her  the  whole 
story !  But  Delphine  had  been  bitter  in  her  denunci- 
ations of  Dacre.  It  would  be  far  easier  to  make  Jack 
her  confidant.  Still,  what  might  not  Jack  do  in  his 
wrath  ? 

"  I  am  going  out  for  a  little  while,"  Mrs.  Estemere 
said,  presently,  laying  down  her  work.  "  I  have  an 
errand  to  do,  and  Miss  Severance  has  kindly  offered  to 
go  with  me.  Little  Miss  Luckiwinner  will  sit  by  you 
until  I  return.  I  shall  caution  her  about  talking  too 
much." 

So,  after  a  few  moments,  Clary  crept  in  to  take  her 
proud  position  beside  the  bed. 

Mrs.  Estemere's  step  had  hardly  died  away  before 
Katey  turned  to  her.  "  Raise  my  head  a  little,  Clary, 
and  bring  my  writing-desk  to  me." 

Clary  stared  in  affright.  Had  Miss  Earle  lost  her 
senses  again  ? 

"  I  want  to  write  a  letter,"  Katey  explained. 

"  But  you  are  not  well  enough.  Mrs.  Estemere  said 
I  was  not  to  talk  to  you." 

"  I  don't  ask  you  to  talk  to  me.  Only  bring  me  the 
desk.  Please,  Clary." 

"  0,  I  don't  dare  to,"  Clary  replied,  trembling  with 
fright  at  her  temerity,  yet  determined  to  be  faithful  to 
her  trust.  "You  might  be  ill  again  and  die,"  she 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  233 

gasped.  "  0, 1  cannot,  dear  Miss  Earle  ;  don't  ask  me 
to.  Wait  until  Mrs.  Estemere  comes  back." 

But  Katey  preferred  that  Delphine  should  know 
nothing  of  the  letter.  She  had  made  her  plan,  count- 
ing upon  Clary's  weakness ;  but  it  had  turned  to 
strength.  In  vain  she  pleaded.  Clary  soon  dissolved 
to  tears,  but,  even  in  a  liquid  state,  was  firm.  She  re- 
sorted to  reproaches,  which  poor  Clary  bore  with  no 
other  reply  than  little  sniffling  sobs. 

"  Then  I  shall  get  it  for  myself,"  she  said  at  last, 
with  determination,  making  a  movement  as  though 
about  to  rise  from  her  pillows. 

Clary  wrung  her  hands  in  despair. 

"  Wait  one  moment.  Will  you  not  wait  just  one 
moment  ? "  and  she  ran  out  of  the  room.  Now  was 
the  time  to  execute  her  threat.  But  that  was  impossi- 
ble, Katey  knew.  She  was  by  far  too  weak.  She  had 
spent  her  little  strength  in  the  encounter  with  Clary. 
She  could  only  lie  quite  still,  crying  weakly. 

All  at  once  Clary's  little  prim  face,  warmed  into  un- 
usual life,  appeared  at  the  door. 

"  Then  you  didn't  get  up  ?  "  she  exclaimed,  and  the 
head  disappeared  again.  Once  more  it  showed  itself. 
What  was-  the  girl  trying  to  do  ?  "I  went  down  to  — 
to  speak  to  somebody ;  and  won't  you  please  let  him 
talk  to  you  about  it?  "  she  said,  confusedly.  A  taller 
form  appeared  behind  Clary's  little  figure. 

"  May  I  come  in  ? "  and  putting  Clary  aside,  Pro- 
fessor Dyce  entered  the  room. 

"  Miss  Luckiwinncr  seems  to  think  it  an  occasion 
demanding  authority.  What  is  this  about  writing 
letters  ? " 

He  came  forward  and  took  the  hand  lying  upon  the 
coverlet,  holding  the  wrist  a  moment. 


234  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Ah,  this  will  not  do,"  he  said,  gravely.  "  I  thought 
we  could  trust  to  your  good  sense.  You  will  bring 
back  your  fever  in  this  way." 

"  But  I  wanted  to  write, — just  a  little  note,"  she 
added,  quickly.  "  I  would  be  very  quiet  afterwards  ; 
I  would  never  ask  to  do  anything  again.  Only  this 
once,"  she  begged. 

He  was  regarding  her  flushed  face  with  grave,  stern 
eyes ;  but  at  the  quaver  in  her  voice  their  expression 
changed. 

"  Could  not  Miss  Clary,  here,  write  for  you?  or  I  ?" 
he  asked,  gently.  So  she  had  been  crying ;  her  eyes 
were  still  full  of  tears. 

Katey  shook  her  head. 

"  Bring  me  the  desk,"  he  said  to  Clary.  She  hesi- 
tated, but  she  gave  it  into  his  hands. 

"  May  I  open  it  ?  "  He  took  out  paper,  and  placed 
it  before  her;  he  selected  a  pencil,  and  began  to 
point  it  deliberately.  "  Do  the  young  ladies  disturb 
you?" 

"  Not  at  all.  They  have  been  very  quiet,  I  am  sure. 
But  my  classes  ?  " 

"  Wait  in  hope.  In  the  mean  time,  most  of  them 
have  fallen  into  my  hands.  There,"  laying  down  the 
pencil,  "  this  is  to  be  a  very  brief  epistle  —  only  a  line 
or  two  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Then  Miss  Luckiwinner  and  I  will  leave  you  for  a 
few  moments ;  "  and  he  ushered  Clary  from  the  room, 
closing  the  door,  beside  which  Clary  waited,  however. 
The  professor  paced  up  and  down  the  hall,  his  head 
bent,  his  hands  clasped  behind  him.  Clary,  hearing 
no  movement  within  the  room,  ventured  to  leave  the 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  235 

door  and  lean  upon  the  window-sill  at  the  end  of  the 
ball.  The  professor  paused  before  her. 

"  Well,  Clary,"  and  the  strong,  bright  tone  which  he 
had  used  in  the  sick  room  had  left  bis  voice,  "  it's  all 
a  tangle  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

"What  is,  sir?" 

"  0,  life,  and  —  everything." 

"I  —  I  don't  know,"  Clary  replied,  bewildered. 

"  No,  of  course  you  don't ;  why  should  you  ?  "  he 
said,  cheerfully.  Then  he  rapped  at  Katey's  door. 

"  Come  in."  The  flush  had  left  her  face ;  it  was 
almost  as  white  as  the  pillows  about  it.  The  letter 
was  finished  and  enclosed,  and  lay,  face  down,  upon 
the  desk  before  her.  "  I  was  not  a  long  time,  you 
see,"  and  she  tried  to  smile. 

"  No." 

"  And  now,  will  you  send  this  ?  It  is  stamped  and 
addressed,  ready  for  the  mail." 

"  Certainly,"  he  replied,  in  so  bright  a  tone  that 
Clary  was  puzzled  again.  But  every-day  life  held 
many  mysteries  to  Clary.  She  never  got  in  their  un- 
ravelment  beyond  a  dull,  confused  wonder,  which 
shed  no  light  upon  them. 

He  held  out  his  hand  for  the  letter,  but  Katey  still 
kept  it  clasped  tight  in  her  own.  Would  he  read  the 
address  ?  There  was  an  unspoken  request  in  her 
eyes.  "  It  need  not  be  laid  upon  the  desk  with  the 
others  ?  "  and  the  color  swept  over  her  face. 

"  Will  you  not  trust  me  ?  "  and  she  gave  the  letter 
into  his  hand. 

"  But  you  will  not  do  this  again  ?  —  not  until  you 
are  stronger,  at  least ;  you  will  promise  me  ?  " 

"  I  shall  never  do  it  again,"  burst  out  Katey,  with  a 


236  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

little  sob  ;  too  weak  and  miserable  to  realize  how  much 
her  words  revealed.  Then  she  turned  her  face  to  the 
wall,  and  he  went  away.  But  Clary  added  another  to 
her  list  of  unanswered  queries  :  why  did  a  great  light 
come  into  his  eyes  at  sight  of  Katey's  tears  ? 
.  Delphine  returned  to  find  her  patient  quietly  sleep- 
ing, and  Clary  ensconced  in  breathless,  painful  quiet 
in  the  great  chair  by  the  bedside.  Evidently  her 
commands  had  been  carried  out  to  the  letter. 

There  was  no  opportunity  at  the  time  to  recount 
the  story  of  Katey's  wilfulness,  and  Clary,  after  turn- 
ing the  matter  over  in  her  small  head,  decided  to  say 
nothing  about  it.  She  kept  her  own  counsel,  since  no 
harm  followed.  Katey  even  seemed  better  the  next 
day,  and  wondered  in  her  own  mind  if  she  ought  to 
confess  her  misdeed.  But  that  would  involve  telling 
the  whole  story,  from  which  she  shrank  now.  She 
was  morbidly  faithful,  perhaps.  But,  because  he  had 
proved  false,  was  she  set  free  from  every  promise  ? 
They  could  never  be  anything  to  each  other ;  but  she 
would  not  turn  against  him,  and  recount  everything 
she  knew  to  his  disadvantage.  Then,  too,  Delphine 
would  divine  at  once  the  cause  of  her  illness,  and 
overwhelm  her  with  pity  and  sympathy.  Ah,  no ;  it 
would  be  wiser  and  more  easy  to^  bury  it  all  in  her 
own  heart. 

When  she  was  able  to  be  moved,  Delphine  carried 
her  off  to  her  own  home.  Jack  and  Josie  had  returned 
from  their  wedding  journey,  and  were  settled  in  the 
same  town.  Then,  before  many  days,  Delphine  had 
bade  them  all  a  cheery  adieu,  —  there  was  never  any 
forebodings  in  her  mind,  —  and  sailed  away  with  her 
husband  and  child  for  a  year's  absence.  But  Katey 


KATHERTNE  EARLE.  237 

was  by  this  time  domiciled  with  Josie,  where  she  was 
to  remain  for  the  present,  and  where  rest  and  new 
scenes  would  bring  strength  and  peace,  if  not  forget- 
fulness.  And  so  the  winter  passed  away,  and  spring 
came  again. 

What  is  this  longing  which  came  to  Katey,  and 
which  possesses  us  all  in  the  spring  time ;  —  not  for 
the  distant  future,  but  for  the  far  away  in  the  past. 
A  vague  regret,  a  shadowy  remembrance  tinctured 
with  pain  of  loss.  It  comes  to  us  like  a  fuller  heart- 
beat in  the  midst  of  busy  cfares.  It  holds  us  for  an  in- 
stant, then  is  gone.  Not  a  recollection,  for  we  grasp 
at  nothing  ;  no  picture  rises  before  our  minds.  It  is 
too  brief,  too  mystical,  for  that.  The  rain  drops  upon 
the  white  stones  under  the  window,  and  there  falls 
upon  heart  and  soul  a  sense  of — what?  Another 
patter  of  rain  ?  When  ?  and  where  ?  A  sudden  gust, 
and  the  breath  of  the  salt  sea  is  borne  in  upon  us. 
Ah  !  we  had  almost  grasped  it ;  we  had  almost  lived 
again.  What  ?  We  know  not.  It  is  gone  ;  only  the 
pain  still  vibrates.  Some  tense,  forgotten  string 
within  had  been  touched  in  passing. 

Slowly  the  summer  went  by.  The  thread  was 
broken  at  last.  The  thoughts  which  had  sprung  back 
continually  to  Dacre  had  learned  to  dwell  upon  other 
objects.  He  had  never  written.  He  had  made  no 
effort  to  overbear  her  decision  or  to  excuse  himself. 
From  Mina  Hauser  she  heard  sometimes.  Only  once 
had  she  spoken  of  him  ;  and  then  to  say  that  Christine, 
hearing  nothing,  was  anxious  and  alarmed.  Long  be- 
fore this,  Katey  had  told  Jack  and  Josie  of  her  appear- 
ance upon  the  stage  at  the  Junction,  and  of  the  Hauser 
family.  Christine's  love-story  only  she  had  withheld ; 


238  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

partly  because  it  had  been  imparted  to  her  in  that 
most  binding  of  all  confidences,  which  asks  no  promise 
—  and  partly  because  it  was  so  interwoven  with  her 
own  brief  romance.  Her  romance  !  There  would, 
doubtless,  come  no  other  to  her  life.  She  looked  for- 
ward without  interest.  The  future,  to  be  sure,  was 
not  now  as  it  had  been  at  first  —  a  great  open  sea, 
cold  and  gray,  and  crossed  by  no  white-winged  ships ; 
the  roads  of  her  fancy  led  no  longer  to  a  high,  blank 
wall.  There  were  Jack  and  Josie,  Delphine  and  her 
family,  —  they  bounded  her  world  ;  and  there  was  her 
work  ;  for  work  she  must,  or  life  would  be  unbearable. 
The  summer  was  almost  over,  and  she  was  going  back 
to  La  Fayette.  Professor  Dyce  had  written  a  brief 
note  to  say  that  there  had  been  many  changes  in  the 
school,  but  her  place  awaited  her  if  she  chose  to  re- 
turn. And  she  was  going  back.  The  dull  routine 
was  tedious,  but  it  was  work,  and  ready  to  her  hand. 
It  would  engross  her  mind ;  and  she  would  do  it  con- 
scientiously for  want  of  a  better,  nobler  mission.  She 
had  no  ambition ;  she  felt  no  call,  such  as  comes  to 
some  women,  to  do  great  deeds.  But  the  commonest 
duties,  well  done,  confer  nobility  upon  the  doer,  and  it 
was  work ;  she  came  back  to  that  always.  She  should 
go  on  year  after  year,  growing  old,  and  worn,  and 
white-haired,  perhaps,  at  last,  in  that  little  corner  room 
looking  down  upon  the  Gothic  porch  of  a  church. 
People  would  pass  in  and  out  there,  —  old  and  young, 
bridal  parties  and  funeral  corteges ;  Hut  it  would  hold 
one  picture  forever  in  her  mind:  the  stillness  of  a 
summer  night,  the  lowering  clouds  shutting  out  the 
stars,  a  handsome  dark  face  bent  close  to  hers,  a 
shadowy  figure  moving  slowly  over  the  way.  Ah  I 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  239 

she  thought  she  had  forgotten.  She  rose  up  quickly 
from  sitting  listlessly  in  her  own  room,  and  began  hur- 
riedly to  dress.  They  were  going  to  visit  a  collection 
of  pictures,  and  even  now  Josie  ran  up  the  stairs  and 
tapped  at  her  door. 

"  What !  not  dressed  !  and  I  am  late,  too.  0,  Katey, 
you  are  an  idle  girl;"  she  added,  playfully ;  "  you  have 
done  nothing  all  the  morning,  while  I  —  do  you  know 
Jack  thinks  I  am  a  wonderful  housekeeper  ?  " 

"  I  don't  doubt  it."  Katey  was  tying  her  bonnet 
strings  under  her  chin,  and  searching  for  her  gloves. 
tl  I  agree  with  him  heartily." 

"  How  sweet  you  are  in  all  that  pink  !  "  said  Josie, 
when  they  were  entering  the  picture  gallery.  "  But 
you  are  so  tall  and  grand  that  I  am  quite  insignificant 
beside  you  ;  "  and  she  made  an  abortive  attempt  to 
draw  her  diminutive  figure  to  a  fuller  height.  "  You 
always  will  look  like  a  princess  in  disguise.  I  be- 
lieve if  you  were  to  walk  down  the  street  in  a  print 
gown,  and  with  a  handkerchief  tied  over  your  head, 
half  the  town  would  turn  and  stare  after  you." 

"  It  would  be  strange  if  they  did  not,"  laughed 
Katey.  , 

"  Do  laugh  ;  "  and  Josie  turned  her  eyes  upon  her 
with  the  wistful  gaze  Katey  had  marked  many  times 
before,  but  would  not  appear  to  notice  ;  "  you  are 
very  quiet  and  grave  of  late." 

"  Am  I  ?  I  have  been  ill,  you  know,  and  that  can 
never  be  amusing  ;  and  I  have  had  many  things  to 
think  of,  some  of  which  have  troubled  me  not  a  little." 
She  said  it  quietly,  moved  to  no  purpose  when  she 
began.  Dacre's  name  had  never  been  mentioned  be- 
tween them  in  all  these  months  which  they  had  spent 


240  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

together.  But  now  she  would  speak.  They  were 
almost  alone.  An  old  man  with  a  mottled  beard  and 
a  hooked  nose  —  a  dealer,  perhaps  —  was  moving 
from  one  picture  to  another,  eying  them  with  a  cold, 
critical  air.  A  younger  man,  shabbily  dressed,  — 
possibly  an  artist,  —  stood  near  by,  sighting  a  land- 
scape through  his  half- closed  hand.  They  were  early ; 
there  were  no  others  in  the  room. 

"  I  shall  never  see  Dacre  Home  again."  Katey's 
great  grave  eyes  were  fixed  upon  the  canvas  before 
them,  with  the  far-seeing  gaze  of  a  sibyl.  It  was  a 
little  French  study  —  an  arbor,  a  stand,  a  wine-glass,  a 
white  shoulder,  some  black  drapery,  a  screen  of  vines, 
a  pair  of  dark  eyes  peeping  through;  but  she  saw 
nothing  of  it. 

Josie  caught  her  sleeve.  "  Do  you  really  mean 
it  ?  0,  I  am  so  glad  !  You  cannot  think  how  anx- 
ious I  have  been ;  and  yet  I  would  not  try  to  force 
your  confidence.  And  you  are  convinced  at  last  that 
he  is  utterly  worthless  ?  " 

"  No,"  Katey  said,  stoutly.  "  There  is  much  that 
is  good  in  him." 

"  0,  Katqy  !  How  can  you  think  so  ?  I  dare  not 
trust  you  then.  I  am  afraid  you  will  go  back  to  him." 

"  Because  I  will  not  turn  against  him  ?  You  need 
not  be  afraid,"  she  added ;  "  I  can  never  go  back  to 
him." 

"  But  you  are  not  going  to  pine  away  ?  " 

One  never  knew  what  Katey  might  take  upon  her- 
self to  do. 

"  Do  I  look  like  it  ? "  and  she  turned  upon  Josie 
the  face  that  had  lost  something  of  its  bloom  and 
freshness,  but  was  still  round  in  its  outline,  and 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  241 

sweeter  than  ever  in  its  grave,  thoughtful  expres- 
sion. 

"  No,"  responded  Josie,  doubtfully.  "  And  you 
are  sure  you  are  not  making  yourself  unhappy  over 
it?" 

"  Quite  sure,"  Katey  replied.     Then  the  room  began 
to  fill  rapidly,  an    acquaintance  accosted  them,  and 
they  said  no  more. 
16 


242  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE   PICNIC. 

THE  changes  to  which  Professor  Dyce  referred  in 
his  note  to  Katey  were  greater  than  she  ima- 
gined. President  Humphrey  had  been  called  to  an  in- 
stitution in  the  far  West,  leaving  Professor  Dyce  in 
charge  at  La  Fayette  until  the  trustees  should  decide 
upon  some  one  to  take  his  place.  Miss  Severance  had 
been  summoned  to  her  home,  and  finally  resigned  her 
position  in  the  school  on  account  of  domestic  troubles ; 
and  at  least  half  of  the  pupils  had  left,  many  from  the 
South,  with  the  forethought  —  or  foreknowledge  —  of 
prophecy,  having  never  returned  after  the  Christmas 
holidays.  Others  failed  to  appear  at  the  beginning  of 
the  spring  term,  when  the  fall  of  Sumter  warned  the 
nation  of  the  dreadful  future.  A  summer  of  excite- 
ment and  confusion,  never  to  be  forgotten,  followed, 
and  it  was  only  a  handful,  compared  with  the  former 
number  of  girls,  who  gathered  at  the  opening  of  the 
fall  term.  There  were  murmurs  of  dissatisfaction 
among  these  in  regard  to  the  political  principles  of 
the  head  of  the  school ;  for  Professor  Dyce  was  openly 
and  avowedly  for  the  government.  Katey  soon  saw 
that  this  dissatisfaction  was  fostered  and  encouraged 
by  Miss  Wormley,  who  for  some  unknown  caase  had 
evidently  conceived  a  dislike  for  the  man  whom  she 


{CATHERINE  EARLE.  243 

had  formerly  fawned  upon  and  flattered.  A  line,  im- 
aginary, and  yet  not  the  less  strongly  marked,  was 
forming  a  division  among  the  teachers.  Upon  one  side 
were  Professor  Dyce,  Miss  Hersey,  and  Katey ;  upon 
the  other,  Professor  Payne,  Professor  Grote,  and  Miss 
Wormley,  while  the  instructor  in  modern  languages 
was  not  regarded  by  either  party,  and  little  Mr.  Milde 
kept  his  own  counsel  and  smiled  equally  upon  both. 

For  the  evening  study-hour  the  girls  gathered  now 
in  the  music-room.  It  was  less  dreary  than  the  great, 
half-empty  school-hall.  Many  and  bitter  were  the  dis- 
cussions waged  here  in  the  half  hour  of  twilight  recre- 
ation after  tea.  Be-jewelled,  be-furbelowed  though 
the  girls  were,  they  had  found  a  depth  at  last  beneath 
these  things.  The  whole  air  of  the  house  was  changed ; 
it  had  no  longer  the  appearance  of  a  quiet,  well-regu- 
lated school ;  but  of  some  chance  abiding-place,  where 
people,  jealous,  distrustful  of  each  other,  waited  during 
a  little  time  with  feverish  impatience  for  what,  no  one 
knew.  Among  these  warring  elements  Professor  Dyce 
moved  silently,  outwardly  calm,  self-possessed,  and 
assured.  It  was  a  relief  to  Katey  to  feel  that  his  eyes 
were  no  longer  upon  her ;  that  the  foolish  suspicions 
which  she  had  awakened  at  first  had  died  out,  or  been 
forgotten  in  other  and  more  important  affairs.  She 
took  up  her  diminished  classes  with  fresh  zeal.  The 
stirring  events  of  each  day  in  the  outside  world,  with 
the  duties  close  by  her  hands,  banished  all  morbid  re- 
grets, and  brought  her  mind  to  a  healthier  tone.  She 
wondered  still  about  Dacre,  but  without  pain.  The 
little  formula  of  prayer  to  which  her  lips  had  become 
accustomed  so  long  ago,  she  still  kept  up.  It  could 
do  her  no  harm,  nor  him.  And  something  like  faith 


244  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

enlarged  her  vision  at  times,  and  made  her  feel  that  it 
would  not  be  in  vain.  Still  she  heard  nothing  of  him. 
Even  Mina  Hauser,  for  some  reason,  had  ceased  to 
write. 

There  was  less  of  discipline  now  in  the  school  than 
there  had  been  once.  With  the  exception  of  Professor 
Dyce,  who  held  them  all  with  a  strong,  firm  hand,  the 
teachers  relaxed  something  of  their  former  vigilance. 
The  recitations  were  naturally  shortened  since  the 
classes  were  so  small,  and  the  hours  of  recreation  in- 
creased. In  place  of  the  processional  walk  about 
town,  which  had  once  comprised  the  daily  exercise, 
Professor  Dyce  led  the  girls  often,  in  these  pleasant 
September  days,  quite  beyond  the  limits  of  the  city. 

One  day,  a  month,  perhaps,  after  the  beginning  of  the 
term,  he  announced  at  morning  prayers  that  the  school 
would  spend  the  afternoon  in  the  country.  He  would 
leave  Miss  Wormley,  through  whose  knowledge  of  the 
suburbs  he  had  perfected  the  plan,  to  give  its  details ; 
and  with  this  he  left  the  desk  and  the  school-room, 
followed  by  some  such  daring  expressions  of  delight  as 
a  soft  clapping  of  hands  from  the  younger  girls.  Miss 
Wormley  explained  that  immediately  after  dinner  om- 
nibuses would  be  in  attendance  at  the  door,  to  convey 
the  young  ladies  to  a  point  some  four  or  five  miles 
from  town,  within  easy  walking  distance  of  the  woods, 
where  they  would  take  an  early  tea,  and  return  to  the 
city  before  dark. 

Professor  Payne  excused  himself  from  the  party,  and 
Miss  Hersey  decided  that  it  would  be  necessary  for 
her  also  to  remain  at  home.  Miss  Wormley,  busily 
collecting  the  lunch  baskets  which  the  housekeeper 
had  prepared,  smiled  a  peculiar  and  not  altogether 


KA  THERINE  EARLE.  245 

pleasant  smile  when  this  announcement  was  made  to 
her. 

"  The  care  of  the  young  ladies  will  devolve  upon 
you  and  me,  then,"  she  said  to  Katey,  in  an  unusually 
gracious  tone. 

"  Yes  ;  and  upon  Professor  Dyce.  He  is  going,  of 
course  ?  " 

"  Professor  Dyce  ?  0,  of  course."  And  again  the 
watery  blue  eyes  half  closed  in  an  odd  smile. 

They  set  off  at  last,  a  gay  party,  filling  a  couple 
of  omnibuses,  merry,  happy,  and  forgetful  for  the  time 
of  their  differences.  The  road  was  smooth  arid  hard,- 
when  the  paved  streets  of  the  town  were  once  left 
behind ;  the  country  fresh  and  greener  than  in  mid- 
summer ;  the  air  mild,  yet  not  too  warm  ;  the  day 
perfect.  What  more  could  they  desire  ? 

Upon  the  outskirts  of  a  suburban  village  they  de- 
scended from  the  omnibuses,  and  went  on,  a  straggling 
company,  led  by  Miss  Wormley,  up  the  pleasant  country 
road  to  the  picnic  ground,  a  half  mile  away. 

"  Is  it  much  farther  ?  "  Katey  ventured  to  ask  at  last. 
The  afternoon  sun  was  fiercely  hot ;  no  shadow  from 
welcome  wayside  trees  fell  upon  the  dusty  road.  The 
shawl  and  basket  upon  her  arm  were  growing  heavier 
each  moment. 

"  No ;  we  turn  in  at  that  gate.  There  is  the  grove," 
Miss  Wormley  replied. 

A  bend  in  the  road  had  long  since  hidden  their 
starting-point.  They  had  left  every  trace  of  human 
habitation  behind.  Rough,  hillocky  fields,  broken  into 
knolls,  and  even  mountains  in  the  distance,  met  their 
eyes  on  every  hand.  Across  these,  in  irregular  de- 
vious wanderings,  straggled  a  narrow  belt  of  woods, 


246  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

disappearing  only  where  the  horizon  shut  down  upon 
it  at  last. 

The  professor  stepped  forward  and  opened  the  gate 
as  Miss  Wormley  paused  before  it.  He  waited  until 
the  last  had  passed  through.  Katey  had  lagged  be- 
hind. He  took  the  basket  from  her  hand,  and  walked 
on  beside  her  without  speaking.  The  grass  was  cool 
and  soft  to  the  feet ;  a  faint  breeze  rose  and  came  to 
meet  them  as  they  reached  the  edge  of  the  •  woods, 
stirring  the  branches  of  the  trees ;  a  startled  bird  flut- 
tered away,  uttering  a  shrill,  piping  call  to  its  mate. 
It  was  a  pleasant  summer  scene,  suggestive  of  peace. 

"  One  might  almost  forget  the  war,"  Katey  said, 
letting  her  eyes  wander  after  her  thoughts  to  the 
distant,  hazy  hills. 

"  Is  it,  then,  so  easily  forgotten  ?  0,  not  for  me,"  the 
professor  replied,  in  a  deep,  suppressed  voice,  a  fire 
burning  in  his  eyes. 

"The  drum,  the  drum,  it  calls  so  loud," 

he  said,  half  to  himself. 

And  would  he  go  ?  Jack  had  written  the  week 
before  that  he  expected  his  commission  daily.  0,  how 
near  this  was  coming  to  each  one  !  How  real  this 
terrible  dream  might  yet  be  !  She,  too,  had  enlisted 
heart  and  soul.  That  was  all  a  woman  could  do.  Her 
busy  hands,  to  do  their  possible,  meek  office,  followed, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  needing  no  fresh  consecration. 
But  often  her  desires  soared  beyond  this.  "Dear 
Jack,"  she  had  written,  feeling  only  this  uplifting  of 
the  soul  beyond  all  dreadful  forebodings.  Then  she 
laid  her  face  upon  the  paper ;  no  other  words  came 
with  the  rush  of  strong  emotion.  When  she  was 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  247 

calmer  she  took  up  the  pen  again.  "  It  must  be  sweet 
to  die  for  one's  country,"  she  added,  with  that  holy 
enthusiasm  which  only  women  and  martyrs  know. 

They  walked  on  silently  for  a  moment ;  then  Katey 
spoke  again  softly. 

"  But  the  school !  How  could  you  leave  the 
school?" 

"  It  has  never  been  any  but  a  temporary  affair  with 
me,"  he  replied.  "  I  should  give  it  up  at  once  if  there, 
were  only  some  one  to  take  my  place.  I  have  to  wait 
a  little  longer  for  my  degree,  —  that  is  all.  Nothing 
else  need  keep  me  here.  But,  indeed,  six  months  hence 
there  will  be  no  school.  You  think  me  a  prophet  of 
evil  ?  "  For  Katey  turned  her  face  upon  him  full  of 
surprise  and  doubt. 

"  The  result  is  inevitable,  and  not  far  in  the  future, 
either.  Ah !  carefully  ; "  as  one  of  the  little  girls, 
running  back  to  meet  them,  stumbled,  and  would  have 
fallen,  had  he  not  caught  her. 

"  Please,  Miss  Worrnley  wants  to  know  if  wo  are  to 
make  a  fire  ?  " 

"  Certainly  ;  "  and  he  hastened  on  with  the  child  to 
where  the  others  had  gathered  under  the  trees,  closo 
by  a  noisy  little  brook  clattering  down  over  the 
stones.  The  girls  were  tired  and  heated,  and  some- 
what inclined  to  be  cross  after  the  dusty  walk,  upon 
which  they  had  not  calculated ;  but  his  presence  soon 
put  them  in  good  humor.  Notwithstanding  the  grave 
air  he  always  wore,  and  the  authority  which  lie  could 
exercise  upon  occasions,  a  certain  gentle  deference,  a 
courtly  manner,  which  years  of  society,  perhaps,  had 
imparted  to  him,  and  which  was  never  forgotten  in  his 
intercourse  with  the  smallest  and  most  insignificant  of 


248  KATHERINE    EARLE. 

the  sex,  flattered  and  won  upon  the  girls  imperceptibly. 
They  might  rail  at  him  in  secret  for  his  political  prin- 
ciples, but  each  one  was  ready  to  do  his  bidding,  and 
proud  if  a  word  of  commendation  fell  from  his  lips. 
There  was  a  flutter  of  ribbons  about  him  now,  when 
Miss  "VVormley  announced  that  it  was  time  to  think 
about  tea,  each  one  hoping  to  be  drawn  into  his  ser- 
vice. The  younger  children  ran  to  gather  wood  to 
feed  the  fire  he  had  lit  in  a  dry  hollow,  the  older  ones 
prepared  to  spread  the  cloth  and  set  out  the  contents 
of  the  baskets,  while  Katey  and  Clary  Luckiwinner 
set  about  making  the  coffee  under  his  direction. 

They  chattered  and  laughed  over  their  rural  repast 
as  only  school-girls  can  and  will.  They  told  stories, 
and  even  sang  songs,  at  its  conclusion,  grouped  about 
in  picturesque  attitudes,  not  entirely  unstudied,  upon 
the  moss-grown  rocks  and  stumps  of  fallen  trees. 
Then,  when  the  cloth  had  been  cleared,  and  while  the 
baskets  were  repacked  and  gathered  together  again, 
they  wandered  away  as  they  chose.  "  Not  too  far," 
cautioned  the  professor,  "  we  must  be  moving  towards 
town  in  an  hour ;  it  would  not  be  wise  to  let  the  twi- 
light find  us  scattered  among  these  woods  and  hills/' 

Miss  Wormley  and  Katey  had  been  collecting  the 
baskets ;  even  Clary  had  been  tempted  away  by  the 
others.  Closing  the  last  one  with  an  exclamation  of 
satisfaction,  Miss  Wormley  strolled  off  after  the  girls. 
Katey  was  tired;  she  had  served  them  all  without 
sparing  her  strength.  She  had  dismissed  the  last  who 
volunteered  to  assist  in  clearing  away  the  remains  of 
the  tea,  and  sent  her  off  towards  the  fields  where  her 
oyes  had  followed  the  others  wistfully,  assuming  the 
task  herself.  She  sat  down  now  to  rest.  The  pro- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  249 

fessor,  at  a  little  distance,  had  thrown  himself  upon 
the  ground,  his  back  against  the  trunk  of  a  tree,  and 
lit  a  cigar,  too  busy  with  the  reverie  called  up  by  the 
silence,  or  the  smoke  slowly  curling  about  his  head,  to 
notice  her.  She  had  no  fear  now  of  what  he  might  say, 
even  though  his  glance  should  discover  her.  In  what 
a  childish  terror  she  had  avoided  him  all  the  past  year ! 
And  how  all  these  imaginary  fears  had  fled  in  the 
presence  of  the  real !  Then  her  thoughts  flew,  as  they 
did  so  often  now,  to  Jack.  Ah !  what  should  we  do 
but  for  the  blessed  care  for  others  which  takes  us  out 
of  our  own  narrow  selves?  Dear  Jack!  He  was, 
perhaps,  already  on  his  way  to  Washington,  where 
Josie  would  follow  him.  Jack  in  the  blue,  with  a 
sword  at  his  side  !  Jack's  handsome  eyes  looking  out 
from  under  a  visor  !  But  Jack  was  always  a  hero  to 
her,  and  he  would  live  to  come  home  again.  There  is, 
a  conviction  stronger  than  hope,  different  even  from 
faith,  a  kind  of  foreknowledge,  and  this  Katey  pos- 
sessed now.  She  might  have  her  terrors  when  others 
quaked.  She  might  see  her  dark  days  when  the 
clouds  hung  low,  —  but  he  would  come  home. 

She  said  it  to  herself  with  a  smile  on  her  lips,  though 
something  wet  fell  upon  the  hands  lying  in  her  lap. 
Then  she  looked  up  hastily,  and  met  Professor  Dyce's 
eyes.  He  must  have  been  regarding  her  for  a  long 
time ;  certainly  there  was  no  surprise  in  his  face  at 
seeing  her  there. 

"  You  are  quite  well  ?  "  he  said,  inquiringly.  There 
was  something  like  anxiety  in  his  tone. 

"0,  yes." 

"  Arid  happy  ?  "  It  was  an  odd  question,  uttered  so 
quietly,  without  the  suggestion  of  a  smile. 


250  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  0,  yes,"  Katey  said  again. 

That  was  all.  He  rose,  throwing  away  his  cigar. 
Did  he  take  care  of  her?  Did  he  watch  over  her?  A 
little  quick  throb  stirred  her  heart.  There  had  been 
a  moment  of  desolation,  thinking  of  Jack,  and  of  Del- 
phine  so  far  away.  What  if  anything  should  happen 
here  at  the  school  ?  There  was  no  one  to  whom  she 
could  turn.  She  had  not  thought  of  Professor  Dyce. 

The  faintest  shadow  of  coming  night  had  already 
fallen.  Miss  Wormley  approached  now  in  evident 
haste.  Professor  Dyce  watched  her  drawing  near. 

"  We  rest  upon  a  volcano  in  La  Fayette,"  he  went 
on  to  Katey.  "  It  is  only  a  question  of  time.  The 
end  must  come.  For  myself,.  I  have  succeeded  in  the 
undertaking  which  brought  me  here.  I  have  trans- 
ferred my  interests  elsewhere.  Six  weeks  —  a  month 
—  I  could  leave  to-day  without  loss,  though  I  should 
like  my  degree  ;  but  you  —  it  is  different  with  a 
woman.  If  your  position  becomes  dangerous,  —  if  I, 
who  can  see  so  much  better  than  you  to  what  all  this 
may  lead,  having  means  of  knowing  what  you  can  but 
be  ignorant  of,  —  if  I  tell  you  some  day  that  the  time 
has  come  for  you  to  leave,  will  you  trust  me,  and  go  ?  " 

Katey  gave  one  look  into  his  eyes. 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  unhesitatingly,  "  I  will." 

Then,  even  as  she  uttered  the  last  words,  Miss 
Wormley  joined  them. 

"  It  is  time  we  started  for  home  ; "  and  the  pro- 
fessor consulted  his  watch. 

"  There  is  no  haste ;  it  is  early  yet,"  said  Miss 
Wormley.  It  struck  Katey  as  odd.  The  night  was 
close  at  hand.  Or  was  it  her  manner  which  was 
strange  ?  There  was  a'kind  of  suppressed  excitement 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  251 

about  the  woman.  She  panted  as  though  she  had 
been  running.  The  professor,  standing  upon  a  rock 
above  them,  searched  the  woods  on  either  side.  The 
girls  were  nowhere  in  sight. 

"  I  have  called  them,"  Miss  Wormley  said,  quickly. 
"  They  will  be  here  directly.  Of  course  you  have  seen 
the  view  from  the  Knoll  ?  "  she  added  to  Katey,  mo- 
tioning with  her  head  in  the  opposite  direction  from 
that  by  which  they  had  entered  the  woods. 

"  No,';  Katey  replied  ;  "  I  was  tired,  and  have  been 
resting ;  and,  indeed,  I  know  nothing  about  it." 

"  Is  it  possible  ?  Why,  that  is  the  aim  and  object 
of  every  picnic  party  here.  It  would  be  a  shame  not 
to  see  it.  Professor  Dyce  !  "  He  turned  at  her  voice. 
"  I  will  wait  here  for  the  girls,  who  are  on  their  way 
back  now  from  the  Knoll,  if  you  will  take  Miss  Earle 
there  for  a  moment.  It  is  a  pity  that  she  should  miss 
the  view,  which  she  says  she  has  not  seen." 

"  Nor  have  I,"  replied  the  professor.  "  I  must  con- 
fess my  ignorance  as  to  the  situation  of  this  Knoll,  even. 
I  trust  it  is  not  far,"  he  added,  with  unconscious  ungal- 
lantry.  "  It  is  later  than  I  thought." 

"  0,  no  ;  I  can  easily  direct  you  there  ; "  and  she 
proceeded  to  point  out  the  way,  which  seemed  to 
Katey  both  complicated  and  long  in  its  various 
turnings. 

"  It  must  be  too  far  for  us  to  think  of  going  now," 
she  said. 

"  Not  at  all.  You  will  soon  see,"  Miss  Wormley 
replied.  "  And  you  will  be  well  paid  for  the  slight 
exertion.  But  don't  linger  there,"  she  called  after 
them,  "  or  we  shall  go  homo  without  you." 


252  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 

KATEY'S  CONFESSION. 

KATEY  followed  the  professor,  who  led  the  way 
with  some  haste,  and  without  replying  to  this 
playful  remark.  As  they  came,  out  into  the  open  fields 
the  daylight  flared  into  unexpected  brightness.  It 
was  the  shadows  among  the  trees,  perhaps,  which  had 
brought  the  twilight  so  soon. 

"  Where  are  the  girls  ? "  and  Katey  looked  about 
her  in  surprise,  for  no  one  was  in  sight. 

"  They  have  probably  crossed  to  the  other  side," 
the  professor  replied.  "  Miss  Wormley  has  called 
them  together.  If  you  are  anxious,  we  will  turn  back. 
Still,  I  think  this  must  be  the  Knoll  she  spoke  of.  Are 
you  equal  to  a  run  to  the  top  of  it  ?  Give  me  your 
hand." 

"  This  cannot  be  the  spot,"  he  said,  when  they  had 
gained  the  summit  only  to  find  another  hill,  rising  at  a 
little  distance  to  a  greater  height,  shutting  out  the 
view  from  before  them.  Katey  was  already  half  way 
down  upon  the  other  side.  She  was  filled  with  mis- 
givings. "  Let  us  go  as  fast  as  we  can,"  she  said. 
But  the  way  lengthened  before  them;  the  deceitful 
knoll  —  if  this  were  really  the  one  they  sought  — 
seemed  to  move  back  coquettishly  at  their  approach. 
Already  the  horizon  had  disappeared,  and  heavy  shad- 
ows were  creeping  towards  them. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  253 

"  Professor  Dyce,  where  are  we  going  ?  "  Katey 
exclaimed,  at  last. 

"  I  don't  know." 

"  Nor  I." 

Then  they  laughed. 

"  We  had  better  return  as  quickly  as  possible,"  said 
the  professor,  beginning  to  retrace  his  steps.  "  It 
will  be  dark  before  we  reach  La  Fayette.  I  am  sorry 
to  disappoint  you  —  " 

"  It  is  no  disappointment,"  Katey  hastened  to  say. 
"  I  did  not  care  to  come,  but  Miss  Wormley  insisted 
upon  it." 

The  way  seemed  much  longer  than  when  they  first 
passed  over  it,  and  the  shadows  gained  upon  them 
with  alarming  speed. 

"  Are  you  quite  sure  ?  "  Katey  ventured,  presently. 
"  I  think  we  should  bend  more  to  the  left.  I  don't 
remember  this  clump  of  firs ;  do  you  ?  " 

"  We  might  not  have  noticed  it.  But  I  believe  we 
should  enter  the  woods  at  that  turn." 

Katey's  heart  fell  in  sudden  fright ;  but  she  followed 
without  speaking.  She  was  by  no  means  sure  ;  per- 
haps he  was  right.  They  gained  the  woods.  The  day 
bade  them  adieu  as  they  plunged  into  the  shadows, 
and  pushed  on  in  silence.  They  reached  the  brook, 
which  sang  noisily  on  its  way.  The  surroundings 
were  strange.  Their  companions  were  nowhere  in 
sight 

"  Hark  !  "  But  it  was  only  the  cry  of  a  distant 
hawk. 

"  We  are  too  far  down,"  said  the  professor,  in  the 
kind,  hopeful  tone  people  use  with  children  to  allay 
their  fears.  It  alarmed  Katey.  "  If  we  follow  the 


254  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

brook,  wo  shall  soon  reach  them."  And  again  he  led 
the  way.  It  was  an  ill-trained,  wilfifl  little  stream, 
that  had  heeded  the  beckoning  of  its  own  fancy  ;  it  led 
them  a  devious  way.  Often  they  jumped  its  narrow 
width,  when  their  progress  was  stopped  by  a  fallen 
tree,  or  a  great  boulder  which  the  spring  freshets  had 
brought  down.  The  darkness  was  falling  fast  now. 
At  a  little  distance  it  was  difficult  to  distinguish  the 
trees,  or  guard  against  the  snares  and  pitfalls  in  which 
Katey 's  tired  feet  were  continually  caught.  They 
spoke  no  word.  They  only  went  on  and  on,  until,  all 
at  once,  Katey,  faint,  and  dizzy,  and  bewildered,  would 
have  fallen,  had  not  the  professor's  strong  hand  held 
her  up.  He  seated  her  upon  the  trunk  of  a  pros- 
trate tree. 

"  It  is  useless  to  go  farther/7  he  said,  quietly.  He 
stepped  upon  the  log  beside  her,  and,  raising  his  fingers 
to  his  lips,  gave  a  sharp,  shrill  whistle.  He  waited  a 
moment.  Katey  held  her  breath  to  listen  ;  but  there 
was  no  response.  Again  and  again  he  repeated  it. 
Ho  changed  it  to  a  shout.  A  flock  of  crows  rose  over- 
head, with  a  great  flapping  of  wings,  and  hoarse,  oft- 
repeated  caws,  dying  away  at  last  in  the  distance. 
His  voice  had  awakened  no  other  sound.  He  sat 
down  beside  her. 

"  We  need  not  hasten  now,"  for  Kate}7  had  made  a 
movement  to  rise.  "  We  should  be  quite  as  likely  to 
take  the  wrong  direction  as  the  right.  We  either 
entered  the  woods  above  the  point  where  we  lunched, 
and  so  have  been  going  farther  away  from  it  all  the 
time,  or  have  passed  the  place  and  not  recognized  it." 

"  But  Miss  Wormley  and  the  girls  ?  They  must  be 
searching  for  us  now." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  255 

"  Give  yourself  no  anxiety  about  them,"  said  the 
professor.  "  They  were  safely  housed  an  hour  ago,  I 
doubt  not.  Finding  we  did  not  return,  Miss  Wormley 
would  take  the  girls  home,  and  perhaps  send  some 
one  after  us.  We  will  hope  so,  at  least,  and  act  ac- 
cordingly. At  the  worst,  we  have  only  to  wait  for 
daylight,  when  we  may  find  ourselves  close  by  the 
turnpike.  But  I  think  we  might  make  one  other  at- 
tempt. We  will  try  the  open  fields.  If  we  can  only 
find  the  road,  even  if  followed  in  the  wrong  direction, 
it  must  lead  to  some  village  or  town,  from  which  we 
can  easily  reach  La  Fayette." 

They  gained  the  open  ground.  Above  them  shone 
the  stars,  too  bright  by  far  ;  a  soft,  trembling  darkness 
filled  all  the  space  below,  in  which  they  moved  as  in  a 
fog-swopt  sea. 

"  This  is  folly  and  madness,"  said  the  professor. 
"  We  will  go  back,  and  build  a  fire.  They  will  cer- 
tainly send  some  one  to  look  for  us."  And  they 
retraced  their  steps  to  where  the  heavier  shadows  be- 
tokened the  presence  of  the  woods.  He  found  a  log 
where  she  could  sit  supported  by  the  trunk  of  a  tree. 

"  But  you  have  no  shawl,  and  the  evening  air  is 
cool." 

Thus  reminded,  she  took  up  the  shawl,  which,  with 
one  of  the  lunch-baskets,  she  had  carried,  unconscious- 
ly, all  the  way,  and  wrapped  it  about  her,  while  ho 
gathered  dry  leaves  and  sticks,  and  lit  a  tiny  fire,  just 
beyond  her  feet. 

"  The  wind  is  from  the  woods.  We  may  safely 
make  it  burn  as  brightly  as  we  can;"  and  he  Ibd 
the  flames,  which,  crackling  and  snapping,  and  rising 
higher  and  higher,  surrounded  them  at  last  with  a 


256  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

circle  of  light,  making  the  outer  darkness  still  more 
dense  by  contrast. 

"  I  must  make  a  wider  search  for  fuel,"  he  said, 
presently.  "  You  will  not  be  afraid  if  I  leave  you  for  a 
while.  We  may  have  to  remain  here  some  hours,  and 
a  rousing  fire  would  serve  a  double  purpose." 

Katey  closed  her  eyes  when  he  had  gone.  The 
delight  of  physical  rest  for  the  moment  overpowered 
all  other  sensations.  She  did  not  sleep,  but  her 
thoughts  became  dreamy  and  confused.  A  sudden 
vision  aroused  her.  Miss  Wormley's  face,  full  of  ma- 
lignant satisfaction,  seemed  to  peer  out  of  the  dark- 
ness ;  but  it  vanished  as  she  opened  her  eyes.  She 
was  still  alone.  The  flames,  unfed,  had  died  down. 
She  was  cold,  and  conscious  now  of  hunger.  How 
fortunate  that  they  had  brought  away  one  of  the 
baskets  !  If  it  would  only  prove  to  contain  something 
more  desirable  than  spoons  and  forks  !  But  where 
was  Professor  Dyce  ?  She  listened  anxiously  for  his 
step.  Could  he  have  strayed  beyond  sight  of  the  fire, 
since  it  had  burned  so  low,  and  lost  his  way  again  ? 
A  great  terror  seized  her  —  of  the  darkness,  which 
seemed  full  of  staring  eyes  —  of  the  silence,  which 
held  mysterious  whispers.  She  could  not  stay  here. 
She  threw  an  armful  of  brush  upon  the  flames,  and 
turned  to  the  woods  where  he  had  disappeared,  tread- 
ing noiselessly,  as  though  her  light  step  might  awaken 
some  new,  fresh  fear.  Suddenly  she  perceived  him, 
not  many  yards  away,  sleeping,  as  she  thought  at  first, 
stretched  out  beneath  the  trees,  his  elbow  upon  the 
ground,  his  hand  supporting  his  head.  His  forehead 
was  contracted,  his  heavy  brows  knit.  No  dreamer 
ever  wore  so  anxious,  so  stern  a  countenance.  Look- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  257 

ing  closer,  but  fairly  holding  her  breath,  lest  he  should 
perceive  her,  she  saw  that  his  eyes,  although  open, 
were  bent  upon  the  ground  ;  and  as  she  moved  back, 
cautiously,  he  dropped  his  head  upon  his  arm  with  a 
deep  sigh. 

Was  he,  then,  so  troubled,  while  he  had  concealed 
his  anxiety  from  her?  Sometimes  care  is  infectious, 
and  sometimes  it  is  like  the  plarik  on  which  the  chil- 
dren see-saw  —  the  depression  of  one  elevates  the 
other.  Katey's  spirits  rose.  They  .could  not  be  really 
lost,  she  thought,  hopefully,  retracing  her  steps.  At 
the  worst,  as  he  had  said,  they  could  wait  here  until 
daylight  released  them.  He  need  not  be  uneasy  if  it 
was  on  her  account.  And  yet  she  would  not  call  him. 
But  she  made  the  dry  twigs  snap  in  her  hands,  as  she 
fed  the  fire,  noisily.  She  still  knelt  before  the  blaze, 
opening  the  lunch-basket,  when  he  rejoined  her. 

"  So  you  are  awake.  I  came  back  once,  and  found 
you  sleeping,"  he  said,  with  a  smile. 

But  no  smile  could  deceive  her  now. 

"What  is  that?  And  you  have  carried  it  all  the 
way!" 

"  I  was  not  aware  of  it,  I  can  assure  you.  How 
fortunate  !  "  she  exclaimed,  bringing  out  one  treasure 
after  another.  "  Not  only  sandwiches  and  rolls,  and 
more  sandwiches,  but  such  superfluous  products  of 
civilization  as  knives  and  forks  !  And  what  can  this 
be  ?  "  She  brought  out  a  tin  cup,  which  held  a  paper, 
half  broken  open.  "  Coffee  !  "  Her  manner  had  en- 
tirely changed.  He  wondered,  looking  down  upon  her, 
as,  clasping  basket  and  viands  and  all  in  her  arms,  she 
said,  with  a  playful  air  of  distress  :  — 

"  Professor  Dyce,  I  uui  shockingly  hungry.  It  can't 
17 


258  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

be  long  before  they  come,"  she  went  on,  m  a  bright 
tone,  setting  out  the  sandwiches  upon  the  end  of  the 
log  nearest  the  fire ;  "  and,  in  the  mean  time,  we  will 
take  supper.  Will  you  bring  some  water  from  the 
brook,  for  the  coffee  ?  " 

He  disappeared  among  the  trees  to  return  in  a  mo- 
ment with  the  cup  filled.  They  placed  it  upon  the 
glowing  coals. 

"  You  don't  care  for  cream,  I  suppose  ?  "  said  Katey, 
when  it  had  boiled  furiously,  and  been  set  aside  at  last. 

"  0,  no  ;  not  at  all." 

"  And  much  sugar  is  not  good  for  one.  It  might  be 
wise  to  dispense  with  it  altogether." 

"  True  ;  especially  as  we  have  none." 

"  And  coffee  is  never  so  delicious  as  when  drank 
from  the  cup  in  which  it  is  made,"  and  Katey  prepared 
to  test  her  theory.  The  heated  rim  approached  her 
lips.  "  And  never  so  hot,  I  am  sure,"  she  concluded, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes. 

The  professor  laughed. 

"  You  should  wait  until  it  has  had  time  to  cool ;  and 
it  has  not  yet  settled.  I  have  camped  out  more  than 
once.  Coffee  from  a  tin  cup  is  no  novelty  to  me." 

And  he  recounted  some  boyish  experience,  with  an 
animation  which  Katey  felt  to  be  forced.  He  watched 
and  listened  constantly,  she  knew.  What  did  he 
dread  ?  What  did  he  expect  ?  Why  was  he  so  ab- 
sent and  preoccupied  ?  As  for  herself,  she  was  con- 
tented and  at  rest  now.  They  had  food  and  fire,  and 
presently  some  one  would  come. 

"  Are  there  any  bears  or  wolves  about  here  ?  " 

"  0,  no ;  "  and  he  smiled,  as  though  amused  by  what 
she  felt  to  be  a  childish  question.  Her  face  grew 
warm  in  the  fire-light,  but  still  she  went  on. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  259 

"  Is  there  anything  one  need  fear  ?  " 

His  head  had  been  turned,  as  though  listening.  He 
looked  around  at  her  now. 

"  No.     Are  you  afraid  ?  " 

"7am  not  afraid  ;  but —  '  Then  she  stopped,  red- 
dening to  her  hair. 

He  uttered  a  short,  crisp  laugh. 

"  You  thought  /  might  be,  perhaps." 

Katey  turned  her  head  away. 

"  Will  you  not  tell  me  why  you  are  anxious  ? "  she 
said. 

His  face  became  grave  at  once. 

"  Not  for  any  harm  which  can  come  to  us  here,  I 
can  assure  you.  There  is  no  reason  why  you  should 
not  sleep  as  peacefully  as  in  your  own  bed.  And,  in- 
deed, it  is  time  you  were  asleep.  Do  you  know  how 
late  it  is  ?  " 

«  No." 

He  took  out  his  watch,  glanced  at  it,  and  held  its 
face  to  her. 

"  One  o'clock  !  "  Then  she  remembered  something 
else.  "  They  should  have  been  here  before  now," 
she  said. 

He  made  no  reply.  His  face  was  averted,  and  lie 
was  suddenly  busy  over  the  fire. 

"  I  think  I  can  make  you  more  comfortable ; "  and 
he  disappeared  among  the  trees,  returning  in  a  mo- 
ment with  his  arms  full  of  dried  leaves,  which  he 
threw  down  before  her.  Two  or  three  similar  jour- 
neys and  his  work  was  done. 

"  And  now,  if  you  will  make  a  couch  of  it,  and  put 
your  feet  to  the  fire,  you  may  sleep  for  an  hour  or  two. 
This  moss-covered  log  may  serve,  for  once,  as  a  pil- 


260  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

low.  "Wrap  your  shawl  well  about  you,  and  don't  be 
anxious;  nothing  can  harm  you.  I  shall  not  go  far 
away." 

Then,  as  Katey  prepared  to  follow  his  advice,  he 
threw  another  armful  of  brush  upon  the  blaze  before 
vanishing  into  the  darkness.  She  wrapped  herself 
warmly,  as  he  had  told  her  to  do.  Sleep  would  not 
come,  however,  at  her  bidding;  but  the  change  of 
position  was  restful,  and  with  her  cheek  against  the 
shawl,  she  followed  out  the  queries  which  his  manner 
had  raised  in  her  mind.  Why  did  he  bid  her  sleep, 
and  say  nothing  more  of  the  party  who  would  come  to 
seek  them  ?  Had  he  given  up  all  hope  of  it  ?  She 
could  not  but  feel  that  they  should  have  been  here  be- 
fore now.  The  blazing  fire  must  be  visible  for  miles. 
It  would  have  guided  any  one  to  them  at  once.  Or  in 
the  utter  stillness  of  the  night,  a  voice  would  have 
reached  them  from  a  distance.  But  who  was  there 
at  the  school  to  start  upon  such  a  quest  ?  Professor 
Payne,  if  he  knew  the  circumstances.  He  was  too 
rigidly  just  and  conscientious  to  do  otherwise.  He 
would  not  let  his  bitterest  enemy  come  to  harm  if  he 
could  save  him.  And  in  Professor  Dyce's  absence  he 
Avas  at  the  head  of  the  house.  But  what  would  Miss 
Wormley  say  to  him?  What  account  of  their  dis- 
appearance would  she  give  ?  And  then,  in  a  moment, 
the  conviction  flashed  upon  Katey's  mind  that  Miss 
Wormley  had  wilfully  misled  them,  and  had  deserted 
them  at  last.  No  one  would  come ;  it  was  useless  to 
longer  expect  it.  She  sat  upright  with  the  thought. 
A  step  drew  near,  and  Professor  Dyce  appeared. 

"  Well  ? "  and  Katey's  voice  was  strained  and 
anxious. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  261 

"  I  thought  you  were  asleep,  child." 

"  I  cannot  sleep.  I  believe  I  am  nervous/.she  added, 
with  a  little  hysterical  laugh.  "  Have  you  heard  any- 
thing ?  Have  you  seen  anything  ?  " 

"  Nothing  at  all ! "  He  had  thrown  himself  down 
before  the  fire.  He  did  not  avoid  her  eyes  now. 
"  We  must  rely  upon  ourselves,"  he  said.  "  No  one 
will  come  in  search  of  us.  They  should  have  been 
here  hours  ago.  Don't  be  frightened  !  "  for  Katey 
had  buried  her  face  in  the  folds  of  her  shawl.  "  We 
shall  have  no  difficulty  in  finding  our  way  as  soon  as 
it  is  daylight." 

"You  believe  it?"  and  Katey's  eyes  searched  his 
face. 

"  Without  a  shadow  of  doubt." 

"  Then  there  is  nothing  to  be  anxious  about ;  "  and 
her  voice  was  cheerful  and  assured. 

"  You  are  warm?  "  and  he  fed  the  fire  again. 

"  0,  yes ;  entirely  comfortable,  thank  you." 

"  Then  try  to  sleep.  We  may  have  a  long  tramp 
before  us  yet." 

"  I  cannot ;  I  feel  like  a  gypsy ; "  and  with  the  little 
red  shawl  twisted  fantastically  about  her,  she  looked 
not  unlike  one  as  she  drew  nearer  to  the  blaze.  "  I 
begin  to  enjoy  it,  since  there  is  really  nothing  to  fear." 

He  made  no  reply.  She  bent  forward,  her  hands 
clasped  around  her  knees,  her  face  warm  and  bright 
in  the  fire-light. 

"  Professor  Dyce,"  she  said,  presently,  in  a  low, 
almost  timid,  voice.  He  raised  his  head  from  his  arm, 
where  he  lay  regarding  her. 

"  Well  ?  "  —  when  she  did  not  go  on. 

"  I  want  to  tell  you  something ;  only  don't  look  at 
me,  please." 


262  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

11  Shall  I  cover  my  face,  or  turn  away  ?  " 

"  Neither ;  only  look  at  the  fire  ;  that  will  do  ; 
though  I  believe  I  am  not  afraid  of  you  now." 

"  Which  implies  that  you  have  been  ?  "  and  he  raised 
his  eyes  quickly,  then  dropped  them  again. 

"  I  suppose  so,  since  I  am  conscious  that  I  am  not 
now  ;  but  that  is  metaphysics." 

"In  which  gypsies  are  not  supposed  to  indulge." 

There  was  a  flutter  of  the  leaves  overhead,  moved 
by  a  passing  wind.  Far  away  in  the  distance  the  call 
of  some  night-bird  awoke  the  stillness,  as  she  paused 
again. 

"  It  is  nothing,"  she  went  on,  slowly.  "  Only  I 
should  like  to  tell  you  about  that  night  when  we  were 
detained  at  the  Junction.  I  saw  you  in  the  concert 
hall.  I  —  I  was  with  the  singers,  you  know." 

"  Yes,  I  know  ;  "  and  an  odd  smile  crossed  his  face. 

"  You  must  have  thought  it  strange,"  she  said, 
timidly.  Her  forehead  flamed  at  the  recollection  of 
the  little  red  petticoat. 

"  I  believe  I  did  ;  very  strange." 

"  But  it  was  nothing  at  all."  And  then,  very  quickly, 
she  recounted  the  story  of  her  acquaintance  with  the 
Hauser  family. 

"  Why  did  you  not  tell  me  at  once  ?  "  he  said,  at  its 
conclusion.  "  A  word  would  have  explained  what 
could  not  but  appear  strange  to  me." 

"  I  was  angry  ;  I  saw  that  you  distrusted  me." 

'•  Why  should  I  not  ?  "  He  had  risen  while  she  was 
speaking,  and  paced  back  and  forth  now  with  short, 
impatient  steps.  "I  was  very  rude  to  you  after- 
Avards,"  he  said,  presently.  Then  he  took  off  his  hat. 
"  I  beg  your  pardon." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  263 

"  0,  that  is  all  long  past/'  Katey  replied,  in  confu- 
sion. lk  I  deserved  it ;  but  I  was  too  proud  to  speak." 

"  And  suffered  for  your  silence.  Or,  perhaps,  you 
did  not  suffer  ;  "  and  he  eyed  her  sharply. 

"  Yes ;  it  hurt  me  to  be  doubted  so,"  she  answered, 
slowly.  "  But  —  '  She  regarded  the  fire  thoughtfully, 
without  finishing  the  sentence. 

"  I  want  to  thank  you,"  she  said,  at  last,  raising  her 
eyes,  and  breaking  the  pause  which  he  had  not  inter- 
rupted, "for  everything.  I  can't  talk  about  it,"  she 
added,  hurriedly,  while  a  little  shadow,  stole  over  her 
face,  "  but  I  want  to  assure  you  that  I  have  appreciat- 
ed your  kindness  all  the  time.  I  think  I  could  sleep 
now,"  she  went  on,  in  a  different  tone,  before  he  could 
reply.  "  But  what  will  you  do  ?  You  have  not  closed 
your  eyes  to-night." 

"  I  shall  watch  the  fire.    I  could  not  sleep  if  I  tried." 

"  You  will  not  go  away  ?  " 

"  0,  no,  no." 

"  You  will  stay  here,  and  make  yourself  comfortable 
by  the  fire,  I  mean." 

"  Certainly ;  if  you  wish  it." 

"  I  do,  indeed.  And  then,  perhaps,  you  will  sleep 
in  spite  of  your  resolution.  There  is  nothing  to  fear, 
you  said  ?  " 

"  Nothing  about  us  here,  I  assure  you ; "  and, 
wrapped  in  her  shawl,  her  head  resting  upon  her 
moss-covered  pillow,  Katey  soon  forgot  her  troubles. 


264  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

DO  WE  KEEP  OUR  LOVE  TO   PAY   OUR  DEBTS  WITH? 

SHE  awoke  with  the  morning  sun  shining  full  upon 
her,  conscious  of  a  delicious  warmth  and  restful- 
ness.  How  heavy  her  shawl  had  become  !  Then  she 
rose  hurriedly. 

"  Professor  Dyce,  you  have  forgotten  your  coat." 

He  took  it  from  her  hand,  and  proceeded  to  put  it 
on  gravely. 

"  You  do  not  mean  —  you  surely  have  not  —  "  she 
began,  her  eyes  still  upon  the  coat. 

"  I  have  not  suffered  in  the  least,  I  can  assure  you. 
And  now  will  you  have  a  cup  of  coffee  ?  " 

"  Let  me  run  down  to  the  brook  and  bathe  my  face, 
first,"  Katey  replied,  humbly,  forbearing  to  thank  him. 
It  was  all  beyond  words,  but  she  should  never  forget. 

She  came  back  in  a  moment,  her  cheeks  and  finger- 
tips glowing  from  contact  with  the  stream,  which  had 
served  also  as  a  mirror  before  which  to  re-arrange 
the  dark  braids  of  heavy  hair,  and  tie  again  the  knot 
of  flame-colored  ribbon  at  her  throat.  She  was  loop- 
ing up  the  skirt  of  her  pretty  gray  gown  over  the 
bright  petticoat  beneath  it  as  she  approached  the  fire, 
trying  with  deft  fingers  to  hide  the  numerous  rents, 
the  result  of  the  forced  march  in  the  dark  tha  night 
before. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  265 

"  A  blessing  on  the  man  who  invented  pins,"  she 
said,  putting  the  last  in  place,  and  taking  up  the  lunch- 
basket  ;  "  and  now,  where  are  we,  please  ?  " 

In  spite  of  the  light  tone,  her  eyes,  sweeping  the 
unfamiliar  landscape,  where  was  no  trace  of  road  or 
cultivated  field  or  homestead,  were  full  of  anxiety. 

"  Just  where,  or  how  near  to  La  Fayette,  it  is  im- 
possible to  tell,"  replied  the  professor.  "  But  there  is 
a  well-travelled  road  not  far  from  here ;  probably  the 
turnpike  upon  which  we  came  from  town  yesterday : 
we  have  only  to  follow  that." 

"  But  first,  breakfast ;  "  and  Katey  took  out  the  re- 
mains of  the  last  night's  supper.  "  How  fortunate 
that  I  brought  this  basket  away !  But  now  I  think  of 
it,  Miss  Wormley  gave  it  to  me." 

"  She  had  no  intention  of  starving  us,  then ;  that  is 
something,"  said  the  professor,  in  a  low  tone.  But 
Katey  had  caught  the  words,  and  knew  that  his  sus- 
picions were  the  same  as  her  own. 

The  scanty  breakfast  was  soon  over.  Professor 
Dyce  scattered  the  brands  of  the  fire  as  they  pre- 
pared to  leave  their  camping-place. 

"  It  was  to  have  served  a  double  purpose,"  he  said, 
grimly ;  "  one  would  have  sufficed.  No,  we  will  leave 
the  basket,"  when  Katey  took  it  up  from  force  of  habit. 

"  There  is  still  a  little  coffee." 

"  We  will  take  it  and  the  cup,  though  we  shall  reach 
some  village,  or  La  Fayette  itself,  before  noon,  without 
doubt.  Are  you  equal  to  a  long  tramp  ?  " 

"  I  think  so ;  "  and  certainly  her  appearance  was  as 
fresh  as  when  they  started  from  town  the  day  before. 
The  bivouac  under  the  stars  had  only  brightened  her 
eyes  and  reddened  her  cheeks. 


266  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

They  set  off  over  the  rough  fields  glistening  with 
dew  in  the  early  morning  sun,  where  they  had  wan- 
dered vainly  in  the  darkness  for  a  little  while  the  night 
before.  They  climbed  more  than  one  low  wall,  the 
professor  leading  the  way  in  so  straight  a  line  that 
Katey  knew  he  had  explored  it  while  she  slept.  The 
road  was  gained  at  last,  and  he  spoke  for  the  first 
time. 

"  It  cannot  be  far,  whichever  direction  we  take,  to 
some  village  or  farm-house.  We  need  not  hasten  so." 

And  Katey,  breathless  from  the  speed  with  which 
they  had  begun  their  journey,  was  glad  to  slacken  her 
pace.  It  was  much  easier,  too,  to  follow  this  well- 
beaten  road  than  it  had  been  to  make  their  way  over 
the  rough  fields,  full  oT  snares  to  unwary  feet.  The 
sun,  though  rising  higher  and  higher,  shone  upon  them 
still  with  only  agreeable  warmth  ;  the  air  was  fresh  and 
exhilarating  as  they  went  on  mile  after  mile,  strong  in 
the  conviction  that  the  next  turn  of  the  road  must 
bring  some  human  habitation  into  view. 

But  morning  merged  into  noon ;  the  sun  had 
long  since  swept  off  the  dew,  and  threw  down  now  a 
thousand  burning  arrows  upon  the  white  stretch  of 
road,  and  still  no  village,  no  single  farm-house  even, 
had  greeted  their  eyes.  The  belt  of  woods  spread 
out  until  it  skirted  the  road  upon  one  side  ;  upon  the 
other  the  rough,  neglected  land  stretched  away  to  the 
horizon.  Somewhere  among  the  valleys  hidden  in  the 
distance,  villages  might  nestle,  but  they  were  not  visi- 
ble from  this  point,  as  again  they  hastened  towards  a 
bend  in  the  road,  only  to  find  themselves  upon  the 
brow  of  a  low  hill  with  the  same  unchanging  landscape 
before  them. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  267 

Katey  sat  down  upon  a  low,  flat  rock  by  the  side  of 
the  way.  She  was  faint  and  dizzy.  They  had  eaten 
their  scanty  breakfast  almost  at  daybreak,  and  had 
been  hours  on  the  road.  She  rested  her  arms  upon 
the  rock,  and  dropped  her  head  as  everything  whirled 
around  her. 

"  Don't  be  discouraged,"  said  the  professor  with  the 
patient  cheerfulness  which  went  to  her  heart.  "  We 
will  rest  at  the  foot  of  the  hill  under  a  clump  of  trees 
I  see  there,  build  a  fire,  and  as  a  brook  has  straggled 
out  of  the  woods  most  opportunely,  you  shall  be 
served  with  coffee  as  you  sit  in  the  door  of  your  tent. 
Come ! "  and  thus  encouraged,  Katey  made  one  more 
effort. 

'She  laid  herself  down  under  the  trees  when  they 
were  gained,  her  shawl  rolled  into  a  pillow,  while  the 
professor  gathered  a  little  heap  of  sticks  and  dried 
leaves,  and  essayed  to  light  a  fire.  He  uttered  a 
quickly-repressed  exclamation.  She  opened  her  eyes. 
The  match  in  his  hand  had  gone  out. 

"  But  you  have  more  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  not ;  "  and  he  made  a  fruitless  search. 

She  burst  into  tears.  It  was  silly  and  childish,  and 
she  was  ashamed  of  her  weakness,  but  this  was  the 
last  straw. 

"  Don't,"  he  said,  gently.  "  Pray,  don't.  We  shall 
certainly  come  to  a  house  soon  ;  this  cannot  last  much 
longer.  If  I  could  only  do  something  !  "  he  broke  out, 
in  sudden  despair. 

"  I  am  sorry — I  am  ashamed,"  sobbed  Katey.  "  You, 
too,  must  be  tired,  and  faint,  and  discouraged." 

"  Not  discouraged,"  he  said,  quickly.  "  It  is  annoy- 
ing, only.  There,  that  is  a  brave  girl,"  as  the  sobs 


268  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

became  less  violent.  "  Now,  try  to  sleep  a  little 
while." 

But  Katey  sat  suddenly  upright,  instead. 

"  I  had  forgotten  this,"  she  said,  dragging  at  her 
watch-chain.  "  Will  not  this  light  a  fire  ?  "  and  she 
held  out  a  tiny  globe  of  colorless  rock-crystal. 

"  We  can  try  it,  at  least,"  he  said.  And  he  set  him- 
self to  gathering  the  dryest  grasses,  the  most  inflam- 
mable material  within  his  reach,  adding  scraps  from 
an  old  letter,  and  placing  them  all  upon  a  stone  already 
heated  by  the  sun.  After  repeated  attempts,  the  little 
bauble,  thus  turned  unexpectedly  to  use,  was  coaxed 
to  act  the  part  of  a  burning-glass ;  a  faint  breath  of 
smoke  hovered  over  the  pile,  darkening,  bursting  into 
a  feeble  flame.  They  had  succeeded ! 

Ah!  no  nectar  of  the  gods  ever  equalled  the  draughts 
from  the  tin  cup,  a  little  later ;  no  rest  was  ever  to 
Katey  like  the  short  hour  in  which  she  lay  curled  up 
in  the  shadow  of  the  long,  thick  branches  of  the  lau- 
rels, the  rough,  open  fields  about  her. 

They  went  on  with  new  strength  and  courage,  less 
impatient  than  before.  But  what  we  desire  and  seek 
after  in  hot  haste,  comes  presently  when  we  least  ex- 
pect it ;  we  turn  aside  for  a  little  time  weary  of  the 
search,  and  lo  !  we  stumble  upon  it.  A  break  in  the 
woods,  and  suddenly,  almost  in  their  faces,  rose  a  little 
old  farm-house,  peaceful,  quiet,  homely,  and  not  in  the 
least  disturbed  by  the  encounter,  which  is  more  than 
can  be  said  of  one  of  its  inmates,  —  a  frowzy  Scotch 
terrier,  who  rushed  out  to  meet  them,  uttering  shrill 
yelping  cries  which  brought  the  mistress  of  the  house 
to  the  door. 

"  Our  troubles  are  over,"  said  Katey. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  269 

It  was  the  professor  who  lagged  now.  "  They  have 
but  just  begun,"  he  replied,  in  a  low  tone,  which  did 
not  reach  her  ear.  "  Wait  here  a  moment,"  he  said 
aloud,  and  went  on  to  the  door  alone. 

"  My  good  woman,"  he  began,  raising  his  hat  to  the 
tall,  raw-boned  specimen  of  womanhood,  who  had  yet 
a  kindly  face,  "  could  you  give  us  some  dinner,  and  by 
any  means  send  us  on  to  the  next  town  ?  " 

Surprise  and  curiosity  at  sight  of  the  two  who  had 
apparently  dropped  from  the  skies,  since  there  were  no 
signs  of  ordinary  human  conveyance,  changed  to  sus- 
picion in  the  woman's  countenance. 

"  I  don'  no,"  she  replied,  slowly. 

"  You  shall  be  well  paid  for  the  trouble." 

"  'Tain't  the  money."  At  this  moment  Katey  ap- 
proached. She  gave  her  a  sharp,  keen  glance.  "  Well, 
you  can  come  in,  I  reckon ;  an'  I'll  find  ye  something 
to  eat,"  she  said,  at  last,  leading  the  way  into  a  low 
kitchen,  bare  enough,  but  neat  in  its  appointments, 
where  a  couple  of  tow-headed  children  playing  upon 
the  floor  immediately  hid  themselves  under  the  table. 

"  Perhaps  you  could  give  this  lady  a  room  where 
she  could  rest  while  I  see  what  can  be  done  about 
going  on,"  suggested  the  professor ;  and  Katey  pres- 
ently found  herself  shut  into  a  tiny  bedroom  opening 
from  the  kitchen,  with  an  outlook  through  its  one  win- 
dow upon  the  green  grass-plot  before  the  front  door. 
Here  she  strove  to  remove  the  traces  of  travel,  mak- 
ing her  toilet  before  a  little  glass  hanging  above  the 
high  chest  of  drawers,  which  distorted  her  features 
oddly. 

When,  after  a  time,  she  returned  to  the  kitchen,  the 
woman  had  taken  herself  and  her  family  out  of  the 


270  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

way,  a  luncli  was  spread  upon  the  table,  and  the  pro- 
fessor stood  with  his  back  to  her,  before  the  window, 
alone.  He  turned  as  she  closed  the  door  after  her. 
There  was  an  expression  of  annoyance  upon  his  face, 
which  cleared  at  sight  of  Katey. 

"  I  suppose  we  may  sit  down,"  he  said,  moving 
towards  the  table.  His  manner  was  constrained  and 
absent.  They  ate  in  silence  ;  Katey  wondering,  but 
not  daring  to  ask,  what  information  he  had  gained,  or 
how  they  were  to  proceed  to  La  Fayette. 

"  I  am  going  to  find  the  man  of  the  house,  and  see 
what  means  he  has  of  sending  us  on,"  the  professor 
said,  when  they  rose  at  last.  There  had  come  a 
strange  consciousness  into  his  face,  almost  like  em- 
barrassment. He  paused  with  his  hand  upon  the 
door.  "  You  had  better  remain  in  your  room  until  I 
send  for  you.  I  shall  tell  the  woman  you  are  lying 
down,  so  that  she  need  not  disturb  you.  One  never 
knows  what  such  people  may  say,"  he  added,  hastily ; 
"  don't  talk  with  her."  Then  he  went  out,  and  shut 
the  door. 

"  What  they  may  say  ?  "  thought  Katey.  What  could 
they  say  ?  She  was  too  tired  to  think  about  it.  She 
went  back  to  the  little  close  room,  and  threw  herself 
upon  the  bed  to  rest  during  the  brief  time  of  waiting, 
and  fell  at  once  into  a  heavy  sleep.  Some  one  stood 
over  her  presently.  It  was  the  woman  of  the  house, 
who  touched  her  arm. 

"  Your  husband  would  like  to  have  you  come  out, 
ma'am,  as  soon  as  you  are  ready."  Then  she  left  her 
to  herself  again. 

Katey  sprang  up,  her  face  tingling,  her  fingers  awk- 
ward over  the  tying  of  her  hat.  One  never,  indeed, 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  271 

knew  what  these  people  might  say  !  She  stood  a  mo- 
ment, her  hand  upon  the  door  latch.  What  if  the  pro- 
fessor had  heard  the  summons  !  She  was  shy  at  the 
thought  of  meeting  him.  Then,  putting  away  her  silly 
fears,  and  making  herself  brave  for  the  moment,  she 
went  out.  The  woman  was  alone  in  the  kitchen,  clear- 
ing away  the  remains  of  their  lunch. 

"  He's  in  the  parlor,"  she  said  without  looking  up, 
going  on  with  her  work,  but  motioning  with  her  head 
towards  the  door.  Long  afterwards  that  little  room 
rested  in  Katey's  memory  —  with  its  dull,  home-spun 
carpet,  its  homely  furniture  sot  at  ungainly  angles, 
the  queer  silhouettes  over  the  high  mantle,  the  tiny 
window-panes,  against  which  the  branches  of  an  apple 
tree  outside,  stunted  and  gnarled,  tapped  unceasingly. 
The  flush  had  not  died  out  of  her  face,  and  there  was 
a  little  tremor  in  her  hands,  as  she  pushed  open  the 
door.  The  professor  rose  from  the  sofa  where  he  had 
been  lying. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  he  said,  quickly,  closing  the  door 
after  her.  "  What  has  she  said  to  you  ?  " 

"  Nothing ;  —  or  nothing  of  any  consequence,"  Katey 
replied,  angry  at  herself  as  she  felt  the  color  mount  to 
her  hair. 

"  I  wish  you  would  tell  me." 

Then  she  told,  stammering  over  the  words :  "  She 
only  said  —  that  is,  she'  thought  —  I  was  your  wife." 

"  0  !  "  He  seemed  greatly  relieved  by  the  brief  sen- 
tence \vliidi  had  so  embarrassed  her.  "It  is  my  fault 
—  if  there  is  any,"  he  went  on,  hesitating  over  the 
words,  and  yet  speaking  quite  calmty.  "  I  gave  her 
to  understand  so." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?    How  dared  you  !  "     Katey 


272  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

turned  upon  him  in  indignant  astonishment.  But 
there  was  neither  shame  nor  quailing  in  the  eyes 
which  met  hers. 

"  You  are  very  angry,  then  ?  " 

"  It  was  not  true,"  she  said,  faintly. 

He  led  her  to  the  sofa,  and  made  her  sit  down. 
"  Think  a  moment,"  he  said.  "  How  could  I  bring 
you  to  the  door  here,  and  say  you  were  nothing  to 
me?" 

"0,  wait,"  cried  Katey,  in  distress.  Then  her  hot 
face  dropped  into  her  hands. 

"  We  are  twenty  miles  from  La  Fayette.  We  must 
have  shortened  the  distance  in  our  wanderings  across 
the  country,"  he  went  on,  without  appearing  to  notice 
her.  "  I  hardly  think  we  can  have  walked  so  far  as 
that.  It  is  full  twenty  miles  by  the  road,  this  man 
informs  me,  and  there  is  no  way  of  reaching  there 

from  here  but  by  proceeding  to  A ,  ten  miles 

farther  on,  and  taking  the  train  back  to  La  Fayette 
to-night." 

He  rose  and  began  to  pace  the  room.  Katey  had 
made  no  reply.  She  had  expressed  neither  surprise 
nor  assent.  She  sat  trembling  and  silent  in  the  corner 
of  the  old  sofa. 

"  It  will  be  better,"  he  said,  presently,  drawing  a 
chair  and  sitting  doAvn  before  her,  "  to  understand  the 
whole  matter.  Indeed,  I  must*  talk  this  over  plainly 
with  you.  I  had  the  misfortune,  if  it  be  one,  to  incur 
Miss  Wormley's  resentment  a  few  weeks  ago.  She 
uttered  some  threats  then,  of  which  I  thought  noth- 
ing at  the  time..  I  am  inclined  to  believe  now  that 
she  has  bided  her  time,  and  taken  this  opportunity  to 
wreak  her  vengeance.  I  could  laugh  at  it  but  for 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  273 

you.  You  can  think,  perhaps,  what  sho  may  do  for 
us  in  La  Fayette,"  he  added.  "  She  could  not  have 
chosen  a  better  time,  and  every  hour  of  absence  has 
weakened  our  position  there." 

"  Let  us  go  back  at  once,  then ;  "  and  Katey  made  a 
hurried  movement  to  put  on  her  shawl. 

"  We  cannot  start  now.     A  stage  will  pass  here  in 

an  hour,  or  more,  on  its  way  to  A .     We  must  take 

that." 

Again  he  rose  and  paced  the  floor.  Then  he  paused. 
"  You  promised  yesterday  that  when  I  bade  you  leave 
La  Fayette  you  would  go." 

"Yes." 

"  What  if  I  say  now,  Don't  return  there  ?  Indeed," 
he  added,  quickly,  "  there  is  but  one  way  in  which 
I  dare  let  you  go  back.  Child  !  what  might  they 
not  say  to  you  —  do  to  you !  Go  home  to  your 
sister." 

"  And  let  the  teachers  and  the  girls  believe  I  was 
ashamed  to  return  ?  Arid  have  strange  stories  come 
creeping  after  me  ?  O,  never  !  How  can  you  ask 
it?  Besides,  I  cannot,  if  I  would.  Mrs.  Estcmere  is 
abroad.  The  house  is  closed." 

"  But  you  have  a  brother." 

"  Yes,  Jack  :  "  arid  Katey's  eyes  shone  as  she  spoke 
his  name.  "  He  is  on  his  way  to  the  Army  of  the 
Potomac  before  this  time.  His  wife  will  follow  him  to 
Washington  —  perhaps  she  has  already.  You  see  I 
have  no  other  home  just  now.  I  must  return  to  La 
Fayette." 

"  But  you  have  friends  —  the  Durants." 

"  And  could  I  go  to  any  of  them  like  this?    Profess- 
or Dyce,  you  mean  to  be  kind,  but  you  are  cruel." 
18 


274  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

He  went  away  to  the  window  without  a  word.  He 
stood  staring  out  into  the  apple  tree. 

"Why  don't  you  think  of  yourself?"  she  asked, 
presently,  breaking  the  stillness  of  the  room  with  the 
voice  which  held  a  little  tremor  yet.  "  What  will  you 
do  ?  How  can  you  go  back  ?  They  distrust  you  now. 
You  are  a  marked  man  in  the  town,  I  know.  You 
acknowledge  that  you  may  have  to  leave  at  any  time. 
They  will  say  —  " 

"  What  will  they  say  ?  "  He  turned  his  head,  but 
not  his  eyes,  as  he  waited  for  her  to  go  on. 

"  They  will  say  —  " 

"  Well  ?  " 

"  That  you  have  run  away  with  one  of  the  teachers." 

"  But  if  I  return  ?  " 

"  That  will  make  no  difference.  They  will  ask  what 
has  become  of  me." 

He  crossed  the  room  and  stood  before  her,  grave  and 
calm.  "  Miss  Earle,  will  you  be  my  wife  ?  " 

Katey  shrank  back  without  speaking. 

A  shadow  touched  his  face. 

"  It  is  too  soon,  I  see,"  he  said. 

And  "  You  are  too  generous,"  she  replied,  at  the 
same  moment. 

"  I  fear  I  am  not  generous  at  all,"  he  said.  "  I  have 
thought  for  a  long  time  I  should  some  day  ask  you 
that  question.  Years  hence,  perhaps,  when  I  dared 
hope  you  would  not  say  no." 

"  And  you  ask  me  now  because  I  am  homeless  ?  " 

He  took  up  her  words  eagerly. 

"  Yes,  because  you  are  homeless,  and  in  trouble ; 
because  you  have  nowhere  to  go,  and  there  is  no  one 
now  to  care  for  you  but  me  !  I  wish  with  all  my  heart 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  275 

you  were  alone  in  the  world,  as  you  are  alone  here.  I 
could  almost  desire  you  to  be  cast  out  and  despised, 
so  that  I  —  " 

He  stretched  his  arms  towards  her,  but  Katey, 
drawing  back  into  her  shadowy  corner,  gazed  at  him 
with  frightened  eyes.  His  arms  fell,  he  turned  ab- 
ruptly to  the  window. 

There  was  silence  in  the  little,  low  room.  Then  by 
and  by  a  hand  touched  the  professor's  arm.  Katey 's 
face  was  very  pale  and  grave. 

"  Would  it  be  better  for  you  —  would  it  be  easier 
for  you  to  go  back  if  you  married  me  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  so.  But  don't  think  of  that.  I  shall 
do  well  enough  ;  "  and  he  made  a  little  effort  to  shake 
off  her  hand. 

"  Then,  if  you  please,"  she  went  on  meekly,  "  I  will 
be  your  wife." 

"  And  sacrifice  yourself  in  your  generosity  ?  Not 
to  me." 

"  Then  you  will  not  take  me  ?  " 

A  great  flood  of  color  swept  over  his  forehead.  He 
leaned  his  head  against  the  window-frame.  "  Go 
away,  please,  or  I  shall  say  yes,  and  be  ashamed  of 
myself  afterwards." 

"  And  —  and  it  wouldn't  be  a  sacrifice.  It  fright- 
ened me  at  first,  it  was  so  strange ;  and  it  seemed  such 
a  little  time  since  —  "  Then  she  broke  down. 

He  laid  her  head  against  his  shoulder,  and  stroked 
her  hair,  as  he  might  have  done  to  almost  any  one  in 
trouble.  "You  cannot  love  me?  That  is  so  —  is  it 
not  ?  "  and  a  sigh  moved  Katey's  cheek  where  it  lay. 

"  I  don't  know,"  she  answered,  hiding  her  face.  • 

"  I  think  I  will  be  persuaded  to  take  you,"  he  said, 


276  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

with  a  little  low  laugh.  "  The  benefit  of  the  doubt  is 
mine."  Then  he  was  grave  again.  "  At  least,  you 
are  not  afraid  to  put  your  future  into  my  hands  ?  You 
can  trust  me  —  can  you  not  ?  "  He  raised  her  face  so 
that  he  could  look  into  her  eyes. 

"  Entirely  ;  "  and  she  laid  her  two  hands  in  his  as 
the  door  opened. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  277 


CHAPTER  XXV. 

A   BEGGAR-MAID. 

IT  was  the  mistress  of  the  house  who  thrust  her  head 
in  to  say,  — 

"  The  stage  is  coming  down  the  hill." 

"  Very  well ;  we  are  ready,"  replied  the  professor. 
"  Our  preparations  for  departure  are  tolerably  simple," 
he  added,  taking  up  his  hat  and  Katey's  shawl. 

It  was  a  heavy,  old-fashioned  coach  which  drew  up 
before  the  door  at  sight  of  the  waiting  party,  after  an 
alarming  swoop  at  the  small  house.  The  driver  swung 
himself  down  from  his  place.  There  was  but  one  pas- 
senger inside  —  an  old  lady  of  prim,  genteel  air,  with 
soft  curls  of  white  hair  upon  each  side  of  her  delicate 
face,  and  a  large  black  satin  reticule  in  her  lap.  Katey 
was  conscious  of  painful  embarrassment  as  she  took 
the  seat  beside  her.  The  judgment  of  the  world,  the 
speech  of  people,  had  become  all  at  once  matters  of 
most  vital  interest.  She  felt  the  old  lady's  eyes  fixed 
upon  the  rents  in  her  gown,  which  would  obtrude 
themselves  in  spite  of  her  efforts  at  concealment. 
Who  could  this  girl  be? — aristocratic  in  appearance, 
picked  up  at  a  lonely  farm-house  with  not  so  much  as 
a  hand-satchel  for  luggage,  dressed  in  a  pretty  but 
shockingly  torn  gown,  with  a  gentleman  attendant  of 
whom  she  seemed  strangely  shy  —  and  wonder  checked 


278  KATHERTNE  EARLE. 

the  sentence  upon  the  old  lady's  lips  —  a  passing  re- 
mark upon  the  weather. 

Katey  felt  the  glance  without  seeing  it.  She  felt, 
too,  the  slight  drawing  away  of  the  neat  black  skirts. 
"  0,  dear  !  "  she  thought,  "  it  must  be  that  I  do  not 
look  respectable  ! "  and  involuntarily  she  glanced 
down  upon  the  poor,  despised  gown,  and  the  one 
glove,  held  fast  from  an  instinct  of  propriety,  the 
other  having  disappeared  somewhere  in  her  wander- 
ings. Was  Professor  Dyce  ashamed  of  her?  She 
turned  anxiously  to  the  corner  where  he  sat,  only  to 
meet  the  questioning  glance  of  a  pair  of  keen  gray 
eyes,  and  a  smile  which  set  her  fears  at  rest.  She 
could  bear  it  if  he  did  not  care,  and  she  shook  out  her 
drapery  as  though  it  had  been  rustling  silk,  and  set- 
tled herself  anew  before  closing  her  eyes  and  resign- 
ing herself  to  sleep.  She  was  conscious,  occasionally, 
of  the  rolling,  rattling  motion  as  they  flew  down  the 
rough  hills,  or  climbed  others  slowly,,  swinging  to  and 
fro ;  of  a  pause  once,  and  the  sound  of  voices ;  then, 
at  last,  the  jolting  over  pavements  aroused  her.  They 
were  descending  again,  but  more  deliberately ;  a  wide 
river  wound  away  below  them  ;  the  street  was  crowded 
and  noisy,  and  full  of  life  ;  beyond  the  river  another 
city  spread  itself  as  far  as  the  eye  could  see.  Katey 
rubbed  her  eyes,  bewildered  by  the  change.  There 
was  a  heavy  lurch,  a  smooth  roll,  a  pause,  the  snort  of 
steam,  the  sound  of  machinery. 

"Where  are  we?"  she  asked  aloud,  and  sat  up- 
right. 

"  We  are  crossing  the  ferry  to  A ,"  the  professor 

replied. 

"Where  do  you  want  to  go?"  asked  the  driver, 
thrusting  his  head  in  at  the  window. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  279 

"We  will  get  out  here  ;  "  and  the  professor  assisted 
Katey  to  alight.  "  Good  by,"  she  said,  pleasantly,  to 
the  old  lady  in  the  corner.  "  0, 1  am  not  at  all  dread- 
ful; only  I  have  spoiled  my  gown,"  she  wanted  to 
add,  as  the  twinkling  eyes  stared  in  perplexity  a  mo- 
ment ;  then  the  white  curls  bobbed  graciously. 

They  reached  the  other  side,  and,  mingling  with 
the  crowd,  pressed  forward  up  the  narrow,  dirty 
streets,  and  out  at  last  into  an  open  space,  edged  by 
the  water  upon  one  side,  and  by  a  thronged  street 
upon  the  other.  Here,  where  the  river  bent  and  bore 
away,  a  bit  of  the  shore  had  been  reserved  from  com? 
merce,  squalor,  and  dirt.  Broad,  white  stones  were 
under  one's  feet ;  all  about  were  trees  and  flowers 
jealously  guarded,  —  poor,  gayly-dressed  prisoners  be- 
hind iron  bars,  —  and  scattered  here  and  there  seats, 
where  the  tired  and  foot- sore  might  rest.  Away  be- 
yond was  the  open  bay,  blue,  and  twinkling  under  the 
bright  sky,  ploughed  into  snowy  furrows  by  the 
steamers,  or  white  with  gleaming  sails. 

"  0,  how  beautiful !  "  cried  Katey.  The  wind 
seized  the  little  gray  hat  with  its  scarlet  wing;  it 
caught  her  frayed  gray  gown  as  she  stood  with  her 
bare  hands  clasped,  her  face  like  a  song.  A  party  of 
handsomely  dressed  people  turned  to  stare  at  the 
figure.  One  of  the  young  men  raised  his  eye-glass 
and  scanned  her  with  open,  impertinent  admiration. 
"  I  tell  you,  Guy,  there's  a  study,"  he  said  to  his 
companion. 

Katey  caught  the  words  —  met  the  stare. 

"  0,  please,  let  us  go  on  ;  "  and  she  hurried  forward, 
glad  to  be  hidden  again  in  the  crowded  street.  They 
were  approaching  the  first  of  the  many  spires  she  had 


280  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

marked  from  the  boat.  It  was  upon  an  old  church,  left 
here  by  an  odd  chance,  it  would  seem,  in  the  midst  of 
the  whirl  of  business,  like  some  grim  old  apostle  plant- 
ing its  feet  firmly  upon  the  pavement,  though  jostled, 
and  edged,  and  pushed  by  men  in  their  greed  for  gain. 
And  the  text  swung  out  on  its  silvery  chimes  in  sum- 
mer's heat  or  winter's  cold,  when  storms  wrapped  the 
belfry  round,  or  the  sunshine  fell  like  a  blessing  upon 
the  wild,  restless  heart  of  the  city,  was  ever  the  same  : 
"  Ye  cannot  serve  God  and  Mammon  1  Ye  cannot  serve 
God  and  Mammon  I " 

•  Upon  one  side  was  the  church-yard.  Ah !  how 
heavy  must  be  the  slumber  which  all  this  tumult  had 
no  power  to  awaken  !  Upon  the  other,  a  little  gar- 
den, full  of  flowers  —  gay  verbenas,  tall,  gaudy  dahlias, 
and  close  against  the  wall  a  tangle  of  sweet-peas. 
Some  street  children,  straying  in  through  the  tall  iron 
gate,  moved  about  the  narrow  paths,  staring  awe- 
struck and  wondering  at  the  blossoms.  Religion,  of 
which  these  waifs  knew  nothing,  may  seem  more 
beautiful  some  day  —  who  knows  ?  —  for  the  fragrance 
of  the  flowers  growing  under  the  shadow  of  the  church 
walls. 

Katey  paused  to  peer  through  the  open  gateway. 
The  professor  pushed  aside  the  gate,  and  went  in  like 
a  man  who  has  a  purpose.  She  followed,  but  it  was 
only  when  she  stood  in  the  deep-arched  doorway,  and 
he  looked  back  to  *her,  with  his  hand  upon  the  door, 
that  she  realized  why  they  had  come  here. 

"  Is  it  now  ? "  she  asked,  with  a  frightened  voice, 
leaning  against  the  stones. 

"  Are  you  sorry  ?  Do  you  repent  ?  Wait  —  think 
a  moment,"  and  his  hand  fell  from  the  door.  "  It  is 
not  yet  too  late." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  281 

The  noise  of  the  street  was  in  her  ears  ;  the  voices 
of  the  children,  the  odor  of  the  flowers,  came  to  her. 
Afterwards,  when  she  remembered  this  time,  all  these 
were  more  vividly  present  to  her  mind  than  any 
words. 

"  You  are  not  a  child,  that  I  should  lead  you  against 
your  will.  Still,  God  knows,  I  have  thought  this  best 
for  you.  And  yet,"  he  added,  "  if  you  should  ever 
regret  it !  I  could  not  bear  that,  Katey  !  " 

The  children  shouted  at  their  play.  Their  shrill 
voices  sounded  above  the  roar  of  the  city.  All  at  once 
the  tones  of  the  organ  rolled  out,  bearing  the  chanted 
prayer  to  her  ears.  She  had  not  thought  of  a  service 
at  this  hour,  and  upon  a  week-day,  as  it  was.  It  came 
in  a  great  wave,  dying  away  in  the  lingering  "  A-men." 
Katey  had  listened  breathlessly.  She  drew  a  long 
sigh  at  its  close. 

"  I  am  not  sorry,"  she  said,  softly.  "  It  frightened 
me ;  that  is  all.  It  is  so  sudden  and  strange.  No,  I 
do  not  repent,  and  I  am  ready  now." 

He  pushed  open  the  inner  door.  The  service  was 
just  concluded,  the  last  strains  of  the  organ  floating 
off  among  the  groined  arches  of  the  roof.  A  soft  twi- 
light enwrapped  the  clustered  columns  ;  the  rays  of 
sunlight  through  the  rich  stained  windows  fell  aslant 
upon  the  floor  in  quivering  rainbows.  There  was  no 
congregation,  save  an  old  woman,  who  rose  from  kneel- 
ing in  a  pew  behind  one  of  the  pillars  to  shuffle  softly 
out,  and  a  party  of  strangers  —  an  elderly  gentleman 
and  a  young  girl,  who  had  been  sitting  near  the  door. 
They,  too,  rose  now,  and  began  to  walk  about,  pausing 
to  examine  the  carved  designs  over  the  organ-loft. 

The  clergyman,  in  his  white  gown,  closed  the  book 


282  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

before  him  with  a  hasty  movement,  and  disappeared 
through  a  little  door  behind  the  desk.  He  was  a  young 
man.  Did  he  find  the  service  a  weariness  so  soon  ?  Or 
was  he  impatient  that  the  prayers  had  died  away 
among  the  pillars  without  response  ? 

The  silence,  the  hush  of  the  place,  the  noise  of  the 
city,  subdued  to  a  great  sobbing  sigh,  like  that  which 
comes  from  an  over-full  heart,  the  faint  chill  which  fell 
upon  her  as  she  stepped  in  out  of  the  sunshine,  brought 
a  strange  awe  to  Katey,  sitting  in  one  corner  of  the 
great  dark  pew  by  the  door.  The  professor  had  fol- 
lowed the  minister.  Left  thus  alone,  she  nevertheless 
did  not  consider  deliberately  and  gravely  the  step 
she  was  about  to  take  —  the  new  life  she  was  enter- 
ing upon  with  so  little  preparation.  In  that  last  con- 
fused moment,  before  any  great  event  in  life,  there  is 
no  sober  reflection.  Hopes  and  fears,  recollections, 
and  a  sense  of  the  commonest  things  around  us,  crowd 
close  against  the  door  about  to  be  opened.  They 
jostle  and  tread  upon  each  other. 

Shivering  in  her  corner,  partly  from  nervousness, 
and  partly  from  the  chill  of  the  place,  Katey  watched 
the  rays  of  light  falling  at  her  feet  from  the  painted 
window  above  her,  and  remembered  the  tinkling  pen- 
dants to  the  candelabra  in  the  old  house  on  Poplar 
Street,  which  she  and  Jack  had  placed  in  the  sunlight 
many  a  time,  evoking  rainbows  more  wonderful  than 
these.  Dear  old  Jack !  Would  he  be  angry  with  her 
for  this  ?  And  Delphine,  what  would  she  say  ?  A 
sudden  misgiving  and  fear  seized  her  —  a  desire  to 
push  open  the  folding  door  behind  her,  and  run  away 
from  her  promise ;  out  into  the  crowded  streets,  some- 
where, anywhere.  He  would  not  pursue  her;  he 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  283 

would  never  try  to  bring  her  back.  And  then  there 
was  a  little  stir  in  the  distance,  the  closing  of  a  door ; 
and  just  as  it  comes  to  us  all  sometimes,  when  we  are 
tempted  to  do  the  wildest,  most  unconventional  deeds, 
a  spirit  of  mischief  or  recklessness  having  entered  in 
and  taken  possession  of  us,  suddenly  the  lights  are 
turned  on,  the  bell  rings,  the  curtain  rises,  we  shake 
out  our  draperies,  draw  on  our  gloves,  and  step  out  be- 
fore the  audience  which  greets  us  each  and  all  daily, 
without  a  thought,  even,  of  the  moment  before  and  its 
temptation.  So,  as  Katey  bent  forward,  half  rising, 
her  hand  upon  the  back  of  the  seat  before  her,  her 
head  turned  to  the  door,  all  at  once  there  was  a  move- 
ment in  the  further  corner.  The  clergyman,  in  his 
robes,  appeared  again;  the  professor  was  coming 
towards  her.  She  rose,  to  be  sure,  but  she  had  al- 
ready forgotten  the  door,  the  streets,  and  her  wild  im- 
pulse. They  passed  down  the  aisle  in  the  dim,  soft 
light,  her  hand  trembling  a  little  upon  the  professor's 
arm.  And  yet  she  was  not  afraid ;  she  did  not  re- 
pent, now  that  the  time  had  come.  The  words  of  the 
exhortation  passed  like  the  rustle  of  leaves  in  the 
wind  upon  her  hearing.  What  was  this  her  own 
voice  was  saying?  A  break  in  the  service  brought 
her  back  to  herself. 

"  Who  giveth  this  woman  to  be  married  to  this 
man  ?  " 

A  silence  followed  the  words.  No  one  had  been 
provided.  They  were  a  strange,  forlorn  bridal  party, 
without  friends.  "  Jack  ought  to  be  here  !  "  thought 
Katey,  with  a  little  sobbing  gasp. 

All  in  a  moment,  before  she  breathed  again,  a  deep, 
pleasant  voice  behind  her  spoke:  "Will  you  allow 


284  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

me  ?  "  The  elderly  gentleman  whom  she  had  noticed 
when  they  entered  the  church  stepped  forward  and 
took  her  hand,  and  the  service  went  on,  the  professor 
removing  a  ring  from  his  own  ringer  to  put  upon 
hers. 

In  the  moment  of  confusion,  at  its  close,  Katey  found 
herself  receiving  congratulations  from  the  gentleman 
who  had  offered  his  services  so  opportunely. 

"  I  shall  feel  an  interest  in  your  future,  madam," 
he  said,  "  since  I  have  had  a  hand  in  its  disposal." 

He  beckoned  to  his  daughter,  who  came  up  timidly. 
She  was  a  sweet-faced  young  girl ;  and  when  she 
hesitated,  and  then  held  up  her  lips,  Katey  brightened 
and  warmed  inwardly.  It  was  not  an  utterly  forlorn 
wedding  party,  after  all ;  it  was  something  to  have 
had  good  wishes,  even  from  strangers.  They  came 
down  the  aisle  together,  but  as  they  neared  the  door, 
Katey  hung  back,  and  their  new  acquaintances  politely 
bade  them  adieu. 

"  They  are  stopping  at  a  hotel  close  by,"  said  the 
professor,  who  had  exchanged  cards,  and  some  words 
which  Katey  did  not  hear,  with  the  old  gentleman,  as 
the  two  followed  the  young  lady  and  herself  down 
through  the  church.  "  I  wish  I  had  taken  you  there. 
It  is  not  too  late  now.  I  must  leave  you  somewhere 
for  an  hour.  Our  train  will  not  start  until  late,  —  I 
think  about  nine.  I  have  to  inquire  and  telegraph  to 
Professor  Payne." 

"  Must  I  go  there,  —  to  the  hotel?  "  and  Katey  still 
hung  back.  "  I'm  afraid  —  "  and  then  she  hesitated. 
She  laughed,  blushing  a  little  over  the  confession.  "  I 
don't  believe  I  could  bear  the  eyes  of  the  women. 
They  would  stare  so  at  my  gown." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  285 

The  professor  glanced  hastily  from  the  scarlet  wing 
in  her  hat  to  the  tip  of  the  slender,  dusty  boot. 

"  1  confess  my  ignorance  as  to  such  matters,"  he 
said,  "  but  I  "thought  your  costume  very  picturesque 
and  becoming.  I  am  sure  more  than  one  turned  to 
look  after  you  as  we  came  up  the  street." 

"  And  no  wonder,"  laughed  Katey ;  "  to  kilt  one's 
gown  like  this,  especially  on  such  a  bright,  clear  day, 
would  attract  attention  anywhere." 

The  professor  knit  his  brows  in  thought.  "  Suppose 
you  let  it  down?  " 

"  But  it  is  torn ;  "  and  she  spread  out  the  folds.  I 
have  lost  my  gloves,  too.  A  great  many  sins  might 
be  forgiven  a  woman,  but  not  bare  hands  in  the  street," 
she  added  ;  "  and  I  fear  that  altogether  I  do  not  look 
respectable.  At  least  I  have  not  that  inner  conscious- 
ness of  being  well-dressed  which  makes  one  equal  to 
any  occasion.  I  —  I  —  can't  go.  Don't  think  I  mind 
it,"  she  said,  quickly  ;  "  only,"  she  added,  truthfully,  "  1 
believe  J  do."  At  which  womanly  way  of  stating  the 
difficulty,  the  professor  laughed. 

They  had  moved  on  slowly  to  the  porch.  Doubt- 
less no  bride  had  ever  before  stood  here  devising  her 
trousseau ! 

"  Could  you  not  go  out  and  buy  some  of  these  things  ? 
We  have  time  enough." 

If  time  were  only  true  money  ! 

"  I  could  —  yes ;  but,  you  see,  I  —  I  neglected  to 
bring  away  my  purse." 

She  tried  to  hide  her  embarrassment  with  a  sweep- 
ing courtesy,  spreading  out  the  folds  of  the  torn  gown. 

"  King  Cophetua,  I  look  very  like  a  beggar-maid  — 
do  I  not  ?  "  she  said,  with  another  little  laugh. 


28 G  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  You  look  —  "  began  the  professor ;  but  an  old, 
gray-headed  sexton  shambled  out  from  the  church  at 
that  moment  and  stood  in  the  doorway,  and  the  sen- 
tence never  was  finished.  "  That  can  easily  be  reme- 
died," the  professor  said,  quickly,  "  if  we  only  have 
time.  I  will  leave  you  here,  then.  I  shall  not  be 
gone  more  than  an  hour.  You  will  not  close  the 
church  at  present,  I, suppose  ?  "  he  said  to  the  sexton. 

"  Eh  ? "  and  the  old  man  turned  his  face  towards 
them. 

The  professor  repeated  the  question. 

"  Close  'e  church  ?  Lord,  no !  We  don't  never 
close  her.  'Cept  for  an  hour  or  two  at  midnight. 
And  that's  all  the  thanks  we  get ;  just  a-prayin'  here 
and  a-prayin',  and  the  choir  a-chantin',  and  my  nevew 
a-spendin'  his  strength  a-blowin'  at  the  belluses,  and 
all  for  nothin' ;  folks  don't  care  enough  about  their 
perishin'  souls  to  come  in  and  say  amen."  And  still 
muttering  to  himself,  he  wandered  back  into  the  church 
again. 

"  Then  you  had  better  stay  here,"  said  the  professor 
to  Katey. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  £87 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERE'S  ROSEMARY  ;  THAT'S  FOR  REMEMBRANCE. 

SHE  stepped  out  into  the  garden  when  he  had  left 
her.  The  children  had  gone,  and  the  people  hur- 
rying by  paid  little  heed  to  her  or  to  the  flowers.  Only 
a  party  of  emigrants  strolling  up  from  the  dock,  dark- 
eyed,  listless  in  manner,  brightened  at  sight  of  the 
blossoms.  A  dusky-eyed  boy  among  them  pulled  at 
his  mother's  faded  blue  gown,  and  uttered  a  quick, 
sharp  exclamation  in  an  unknown  tongue.  He  pointed 
to  the  gay  salvias,  and  held  out  his  hand  to  Katey,  as 
he  lingered  behind  the  others.  If  she  might  only 
have  given  him  one  spray  !  But  a  notice  before  her 
eyes  warned  all  persons  against  picking  the  flowers. 
She  pointed  to  it,  shaking  her  head.  He  seemed  to 
understand ;  he  nodded  and  smiled  a  wonderful  smile', 
all  flash  of  eyes  and  gleam  of  white  teeth,  then  throw- 
ing a  kiss,  half  saucily,  half  in  gallantry,  from  the  tips 
of  his  fingers,  hastened  after  the  others. 

"  Be  you  the  bride  ?  "  and  Katey  looked  up  to  find 
the  old  sexton  regarding  her  curiously.  He  stood  in 
the  doorway,  his  cap  pushed  back  from  his  roughened, 
grisly  locks,  his  hands  upon  his  hips,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  rests  at  last  from  his  labors. 

"  I  was  married  just  now,  in  there,"  Katey  replied, 
modestly,  motioning  towards  the  church.  To  be  a 


288  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

bride  would  seem  to  involve  various  attending  cir- 
cumstances—  something  of  display,  the  rejoicing  of 
friends,  all  of  which  had  been  lacking  at  her  wedding. 

"  H'm,"  he  groaned,  reflectively.  "  A  good  many 
brides  come  here,  first  and  last.  We  make  a  deal  o' 
happiness  an'  misery,  I  reckon.  It's  a  lesson  to  some 
of  'em,"  he  added,  grimly, 

"  Yes,"  Katey  assented,  gravely,  "  I  suppose  it  is," 
when  he  paused  for  a  response. 

"  P'raps  you'd  like  some  flowers  ?  "  And  he  moved 
rheumatically  out  from  the  doorway. 

"  I  should,  indeed." 

"  'Tain't  often  I  have  a  chance  to  give  a  nosegay  to 
a  bride.  They  come,  mostly,  in  their  fine  carriages, 
with  their  frumpery  an'  their  furbelows,  a-carryin' 
their  own  flowers  a-danglin'  from  their  arms.  Sim- 
perin'  an'  gigglin'  often,  with  no  sense  o'  the  solemn- 
ness  o'  the  place  or  the  vows  they're  a-goin'  to  take 
on  'em.  To  see  'em,  year  in  and  year  out,  gives  one 
an  awful  sense  o'  the  hollowness  o'  things.  There,"  - 
and  he  pulled  a  ravelling  from  his  frayed  coat  sleeve, 
and  tied  up  the  posies,  as  he  knelt  in  the  path,  —  "  they 
all  have  a  sweet  smell ;  none  o'  your  brazen-faced, 
flauntin'  things,  good  for  nothin'  but  to  stare  at. 
You're  welcome,  ma'am,"  when  Katey  thanked  him 
warmly.  "  They're  fresh  and  sweet,  and  maybe  when 
they're  withered  you'll  like  to  keep  'em  to  remember 
the  day.  I  hope  it'll  always  seem  kind  o'  sunshiny 
to  look  back  to.  I  ain't  entered  upon  the  state  my- 
self, yet,"  —  and  he  rested  his  hands  on  his  back,  as  he 
rose  up  slowly  and  painfully,  — "  but  it  seems  to  me 
it's  a  kind  o'  bearin'  o'  one  another's  burdens,  and  that 
always  brings  a  blesshr,  you  know." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  289 

He  shuffled  off  down  the  path,  and  disappeared 
within  the  church  door,  leaving  the  flowers  in  Katey's 
hand,  and  very  solemn,  tender  thoughts  in  her  heart. 
She  had  taken  this  step  —  as  she  did  so  many  in  her 
life  —  from  an  impulse  of  strong  feeling,  unselfish, 
perhaps,  but  none  the  less  likely  to  entail  sorrow. 
She  had  hardly  realized  the  awkward  situation  in 
which  she  found  herself;  but  she  had  been  touched  by 
the  professor's  tender,  chivalrous  care,  and,  above  all, 
by  the  revelation  of  his  unsuspected  affection  for  her. 
And  yet  that  had  frightened  and  distressed  her.  She 
had  so  little  to  give  in  return  —  only  her  faith,  her 
entire  trust.  Though,  did  she  but  know  it,  they  were 
the  germs  of  a  deeper  love  than  any  she  dreamed  of 
now. 

The  old  man's  words  lingered  in  her  ears,  when  she 
had  wandered  back  to  the  church  and  seated  herself 
in  the  corner  of  one  of  the  carved  pews  to  wait  there 
in  the  gathering  darkness  for  her  husband's  return. 
Her  husband !  She  had  not  considered  seriously, 
calmly,  as  she  should  have,  perhaps ;  but  she  would  be 
a  true  wife  to  him  now.  And  thinking  thus,  a  peace 
like  the  fulfilment  of  a  blessed  promise  fell  upon  her 
with  the  shadows.  She  had  uttered  the  words  of  as- 
sent before  the  altar  in  a  dull,  stunned  way,  without 
any  sense  of  their  meaning  ;  it  was  now,  in  the  peace- 
ful twilight,  turning  upon  her  finger  the  ring,  which 
still  felt  strange  and  out  of  place,  that  she  made  her 
marriage  vow. 

Night  came  early  in  the  church.  It  was  quite  dark 
when  the  doors  opened,  and  she  started  to  meet  a  step 
upon  the  stones.  Outside  the  day  still  lingered,  loath 
to  go. 

19 


290  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  I  have  been  detained,"  said  the  professor.  "  I 
hope  the  time  has  not  been  dull." 

"  0,  no  !  "  She  displayed  her  flowers  and  told  of  the 
interview  with  the  old  sexton ;  but  she  kept  back  the 
words  which  had  touched  her  most.  She  had  thought 
in  the  dim  old  church  to  tell  it  all,  with  what  had  been 
in  her  heart ;  but  it  did  not  seem  so  easy  to  do  now, 
out  in  the  bustling  streets. 

They  went  about  from  one  place  to  another  upon 
their  odd  shopping  expedition.  To  replace  the  torn 
gown  at  a  moment's  notice  was  impossible.  Neither 
art  nor  skill  had  travelled  so  far  at  that  time  ;  but 
Katey  found  a  pretty  wrap,  hooded  and  tassejled,  which 
fell  to  her  feet,  hiding  all  imperfections,  —  a  deep, 
bright  tartan,  which  set  off  well  the  graceful  figure 
and  dark,  sweet  face.  A  bonnet,  with  bands  and  loops 
in  the  same  rich  hues,  completed  the  transformation. 

"  It  makes  a  difference,"  she  said,  drawing  on  the 
gloves  of  an  unobtrusive  tint,  which  had  been  the 
acme  of  her  desires.  "  I  am  conscious  of  being  now  a 
thoroughly  respectable  member  of  society.  I  felt  like 
a  gypsy  before.  I  believe  I  could  have  played  a  tam- 
bourine or  told  fortunes  upon  the  curbstones,  with  no 
sense  of  inappropriateness  or  of  surprise  at  myself." 

"  It  will  be  wise  in  me  to  attend  to  your  outward 
adorning,  then,"  rejoined  the  professor,  "  lest  I  find 
you  haranguing  a  multitude,  because  your  hat  chances 
to  have  a  strong-minded  cant,  or  following  a  hand- 
organ,  because  you  have  forgotten  your  gloves." 

He  spoke  absently.  Her  light  words  had  called  up 
only  a  brief,  grave  smile.  How  unlike  his  manner  was 
to  that  of  the  impassioned  speaker  in  the  dull  farm- 
house parlor  only  a  few  hours  before  !  She  rerneni- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  291 

bered,  all  at  once,  that  lie  had  said  no  word  of  gladness 
that  she  was  his  wife  ;  he  had  not  even  called  her  by 
that  new  name.  He  was  Professor  Dyce  again ;  quiet, 
grave,  and  calm.  For  a  little  time  he  had  been  some 
one  entirely  new  and  strange  to  her.  There  flashed 
upon  her  mind  the  recollection  of  a  carriage  which 
had  driven  past  the  open  window  where  she  stood 
once,  long  ago.  It  held  a  bridal  party,  which  had  just 
left  the  door  of  the  church.  In  that  flash,  as  the 
carriage  dashed  by,  she  had  seen  the  bridegroom's  face 
—  the  proud,  happy  face  turned  to  the  woman  beside 
him.  She  had  never  thought  of  it  since.  But  it 
seemed  it  had  staid  in  her  memory  to  rise  now.  How 
silly  !  she  thought,  vexed  with  herself.  As  if  he  had 
nothing  to  think  of  at  this  moment  but  the  questiona- 
ble happiness  of  possessing  her !  And  she  ran  down 
the  steps  and  slipped  her  hand  into  his  arm. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  brightly,  "  and  now  ?  " 

"  I  believe  that  is  all ;  I  am  more  than  satisfied ;  I 
fear  I  am  wickedly  happy  and  vain." 

"  You  have  gained  the  inner  consciousness,  then?" 

"  0,  more  than  that." 

"  Well,  we  have  still  an  hour  before  the  train  leaves. 
We  can  go  directly  to  the  station,  and  take  our  tea 
there  while  we  wait,  or  to  the  hotel." 

"  Let  us  go  to  the  station,"  Eatey  said.  So  they 
walked  slowly  on  up  the  streets,  twinkling  with  lights 
now,  and  full  of  an  eager  crowd  of  people  going  their 
several  ways,  each  intent  upon  his  own  business  or 
pleasure,  but  all  hurrying — whither? 

They  lingered  long  over  their  tea  in  the  quiet 
waiting-room  of  the  station ;  then,  at  last,  the  train 
swept  in  with  the  shriek  of  a  whistle  and  the  clang 


292  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

of  bells,  and  soon  they  were  rushing  away  towards  La 
Fayette.  All  manner  of  vague  apprehensions  rose  in 
Katey's  mind  as  they  neared  their  destination.  The 
events  of  the  past  two  days  had  been  so  strange,  that 
she  had  hardly  anticipated  an  hour.  "What  could 
they  say  to  us  ?  What  could  they  do  ?  "  rose  to  her 
lips  many  times,  as,  with  her  face  pressed  against  the 
window,  she  watched  the  sparks  flying  by  in  the 
darkness,  and  realized  how  swiftly  they  were  being 
borne  to  meet  this  judgment,  whatever  it  might  be. 
The  professor  was  absorbed  in  his  own  thoughts.  But 
at  the  last,  as  they  were  leaving  the  train,  she  felt  that 
she  must  speak. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  whispered,  while  her  heart  beat 
violently,  as  they  were  delayed  a  moment  by  the 
rush  of  in- coming  passengers,  "  what  shall  I  say  to 
them  all  ?  " 

It  was  a  comprehensive  question ;  but  she  had  ut- 
tered the  first  words  which  occurred  to  her. 

"  Say  as  little  as  possible,"  was  the  professor's  re- 
ply. "  I  think  I  can  trust  to  your  discretion." 

But  in  her  discretion,  of  which  every  one  else  was 
assured,  Katey  had  no  confidence  whatever. 

Foremost  among  the  jostling,  hurrying  crowd,  when 
they  reached  the  platform,  was  Professor  Payne.  Sur- 
prise almost  took  away  Katey's  breath.  It  was  all 
confusion ;  there  was  a  hurried  word  of  greeting,  the 
utterance  of  her  new  name ;  but  she  gathered  nothing 
more  until  she  heard  Professor  Dyce  say, — 

"  I  thought  of  taking  her  to  the  hotel." 

"  Don't  consider  it  for  a  moment,"  Professor  Payne 
replied,  in  a  tone  which  was  certainly  cordial.  "  You 
are  both  expected  at  the  school.  This  way  j  I  took 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  293 

occasion  to  engage  a  carriage  ; "  and  almost  before 
she  knew  it,  Katey  found  herself  seated  in  it  and 
whirling  rapidly  up  the  hill.  Nothing  dreadful  was 
to  happen,  then,  after  all  ?  The  shock  was  almost  too 
great  to  bear.  She  had  tried  to  nerve  herself  for 
combat.  It  was  a  tilt  against  a  windmill. 

Kind,  timid  Miss  Hersey  opened  the  door  when 
they  reached  the  house.  She  greeted  Katey  with  a 
warmth  quite  unlike  her  usual  shy,  cool  manner.  Did 
no  one  blame  her  ?  Would  no  one  look  coldly  upon 
her  ?  Ah,  but  it  would  have  been  different  if  she  had 
not  returned  as  Professor  Dyce's  wife  !  In  the  ex- 
citement of  the  moment  she  did  not  notice  by  which 
door  they  had  entered,  until  she  found  herself  in  what 
had  formerly  been  the  president's  parlor. 

"  We  thought  you  had  better  take  these  rooms,  at 
least  for  the  present,"  Miss  Hersey  said.  "  You'll  find 
them  rather  bare  ;  but  that  can  be  remedied  later." 

The  pretty  personal  effects,  the  quaint  foreign  or- 
naments, all  which  had  given  to  the  room  its  peculiar 
charm,  were  gone  ;  the  plain,  heavy  furniture  alone 
remained.  But  a  bright  fire  burned  in  the  grate,  and 
upon  the  mantel  was  a  bouquet  so  large,  the  flowers 
of  so  rare  a  kind,  that  no  one  but  Clary  Luckiwinner 
could  ever  have  chosen  it.  And  who  should  come 
flying  in  at  this  moment  to  seize  her  about  the  neck 
but  Clary  herself,  her  eyes  swollen,  her  face  shining 
from  past  tears  and  present  rejoicing. 

"  She  begged  so  hard  that  I  allowed  her  to  sit  up 
for  you,"  Miss  Hersey  said,  apologetically.  "  But  you 
must  go  now,  Clary ;  Mrs.  Dyce  is  tired,"  I  presume.'' 

Clary  tore  herself  reluctantly  away,  but  not  before 
Katey  had  admired  and  thanked  her  for  the  startling 


294  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

bouquet  which  threatened  every  moment  to  topple 
into  the  grate.  Professor  Payne  and  Miss  Hersey  still 
lingered. 

"  Perhaps,"  suggested  the  former,  rubbing  his  dry 
hands  and  regarding  the  professor  and  Katey  with  a 
delighted  air  which  was  beyond  all  comprehension  to 
the  persons  most  interested,  — "  perhaps  they  would 
like  to  partake  of  some  refreshments  ?  " 

But  they  declined.  "  We  took  tea  at  A ,"  Ka- 
tey explained. 

"  Then  we  will  bid  you  good  night." 

"  I  should  like  to  see  you  a  few  moments  in  tho 
library,"  Professor  Dyce  said  to  Professor  Payne,  as 
the  latter  was  leaving  the  room.  "  I  will  come  to  you 
there  immediately." 

Katey  had  followed  Miss  Hersey  to  the  hall,  where 
she  astonished  the  good  woman  by  throwing  her  arms 
around  her  neck,  and  kissing  her  warmly. 

"  That  is  <  good  night,' "  she  said,  with  a  little 
laugh.  But  away  down  in  her  heart  she  knew  it  ex- 
pressed much  more,  which  she  could  not  put  into  words. 
She  came  back  and  stood  before  the  fire,  taking  off 
her  hat  and  the  pretty  bright  wrap.  She  heard  the 
door  close,  and  Professor  Payne's  step  dying  away. 
She  was  thinking  —  as  the  most  trivial  thoughts  do 
flit  through  our  minds  when  we  are  in  the  midst  of 
the  most  startling  or  care-bearing  events  —  how  odd 
it  was  to  be  bareheaded  again! — just  that,  as  she 
smoothed  back  her  hair. 

"  Poor  girl,"  said  the  professor,  leaning  upon  the 
mantel,  and  regarding  her  with  tender,  curious  eyes, 
"  were  you  very  anxious  ?  " 

"  0,  very,  for  a  little  while.  I  almost  thought  they 
would  turn  us  out  of  doors." 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  295 

He  smiled,  but  the  gray  eyes  flashed. 

"  They  would  not  have  dared  to  do  that.  But  I  must 
go  to  Professor  Payne.  I  shall  tell  him  the  whole  —  as 
far  as  the  circumstances  of  our  losing  the  way.  and  all 
that,  are  concerned,"  he  corrected  himself.  "  He  is  a 
thoroughly  just  man,  and  will  aid  me  in  getting  at  the 
truth.  I  must  learn  what  has  taken  place  here,  too, 
before  I  meet  the  school  to-morrow."  He  crossed  the 
room  to  the  door  while  he  was  speaking ;  then  he  came 
back.  "  It  is  not  an  inviting  home,"  he  said,  gently  ; 
"  but  my  wife  is  very  welcome."  His  lips  touched 
her  forehead ;  then  he  was  gone. 

She  stood  for  a  moment  where  he  had  left  her, 
the  heavy  wrap  half  slipped  from  her  shoulders  and 
still  grasped  with  one  hand,  a  faint  color  called  up  to 
her  face  ;  then  she  awoke  from  her  reverie  with  a 
start,  and  set  herself  to  examine  her  surroundings. 
There  was  a  dressing-room  just  beyond  the  parlor,  she 
knew  ;  and  here  again  some  slight  attempt  to  prepare 
for  her  coming  had  been  made.  Her  gowns  were 
hanging  in  the  wardrobe,  her  books  piled  upon  the 
floor  without  any  attempt  at  arrangement.  The  showy 
toilet  articles  upon  the  table  were  Clary's  gift,  she 
knew.  Much  as  she  desired  employment,  restless  as 
she  was  at  this  moment,  she  could  not  put  herself  to 
setting  anything  in  order.  Everything  was  unreal 
and  strange.  She  could  not  divest  herself  of  the  idea 
that  she  should  be  called  upon  in  a  moment  to  start 
again.  She  could  not  realize  that  her  wanderings 
were  over.  She  was  turning  away  when  her  eyes  fell 
upon  a  letter,  unnoticed  before,  upon  the  white  marble 
of  the  dressing-table.  She  caught  it  up,  a  great  throb 
of  terror  whitening  her  face.  It  was  from  Dacre  Home. 


296  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Why  had  he  written  to  her  now?  She  held  it  still 
unopened  in  her  hands.  O,  how  bitter  was  the  past ! 
If  she  could  only  blot  it  out !  She  had  no  sense  of 
pain  —  only  a  dull,  aching  regret.  "  It  was  for  noth- 
ing," she  said  —  the  anxiety,  the  striving,  the  praying 
even.  Why  had  this  come  to  her,  to  bring  it  all  back, 
when  she  thought  she  had  forgotten  ?  He  was  nothing 
to  her  now ;  and  yet  the  letter  was  like  a  temptation. 
If  she  could  only  open  it !  Perhaps  he  had  confessed 
all  to  Christine,  as  she  had  urged  him  to  do  in  her 
letter  ;  perhaps  he  had  changed  his  course  ;  she  should 
be  so  glad  to  know  ;  and  yet  she  turned  it  over  in  her 
hand.  It  was  crumpled  and  torn  at  the  edges,  and 
bore  many  post-marks.  It  must  have  been  written 
long  ago,  and  wandered  far.  She  read  the  superscrip- 
tion —  Miss  KatJterine  Earle.  It  was  not  to  her,  after 
all ;  it  was  written  for  a  girl  who  was  no  man's  wife  ! 
Professor  Dyce's  strong,  grave  face  rose  suddenly  be- 
fore her.  He  would  come  to  her  presently  —  her  hus- 
band, whom  she  had  promised  this  day  to  love  and 
honor ;  there  should  be  no  thought  in  her  heart,  please 
God,  which  she  should  be  ashamed  or  afraid  for  him  to 
know.  She  returned  to  the  parlor.  The  fire  still 
blazed  in  the  grate.  She  laid  the  letter  upon  the  coals, 
where  it  flamed  for  a  moment,  then  died  to  ashes. 
Then  she  sat  down  to  await  the  conclusion  of  the  con- 
ference in  the  library. 


SHE   LAID  TIIK   LETTER    ri'<>.\   TIN-:   ('<>.vi>,    \VHKKK  IT  Ki.AMKD  roll  A 

.MOMKM,     TllKN     D1KU    TO    AsilKS. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  297 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

UNTANGLING   THE   SKEIN. 

IT  was  as  they  had  suspected.  Miss  Wormley  re- 
turned to  town  with  her  charge  the  afternoon  of 
the  picnic  without  waiting  for  the  professor  and  Katey, 
or  making  any  effort  to  find  them.  Long  before  they 
could  have  reached  the  spot  to  which  she  had  sent  them, 
she  joined  the  girls,  who  were  already  collected  out- 
side the  woods,  in  the  fields  adjoining  the  road.  She 
made  a  feint  of  lingering  here,  then  led  the  way  at  a 
slow  pace  down  the  road  towards  the  village,  where 
they  were  to  take  the  omnibuses.  Some  of  the  girls 
ventured  to  demur,  and  suggested  that  they  should  go 
on  alone  to  town,  and  leave  Miss  Wormley  and  one  of 
the  older  girls  to  return  and  seek  the  two  who,  being 
strangers  to  the  locality,  had,  perhaps,  already  lost 
their  way.  But  to  this  she  would  not  listen  for  a  mo- 
ment. "  What !  leave  the  girls  to  go  back  to  town  just 
at  nightfall  alone  ?  " 

She  would  return  to  town  at  once,  though  half  of 
La  Fayette  wandered  lost  among  the  woods  and  hills. 
It  was  no  fault  of  hers  if  laggards  were  left  behind. 
She  had  warned  them. 

"  But  you  sent  them  away,"  said  Clary  Luckiwinner, 
growing  bold  in  her  terror.  "  I  went  back  for  my 
basket,  and  I  saw  you  —  " 


298  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

"  Silence,  Miss  Luckiwinner,  and  return  to  your 
place ;  you  break  the  line."  And  so  she  marshalled 
them  all  like  a  skilful  tactician,  as  she  was,  and,  put- 
ting herself  at  the  head,  led  the  procession  from  the 
omnibus  station  down  to  the  school. 

"  They  went  for  a  walk,  you  say/'  repeated  Profess- 
or Payne,  nervously,  when  she  immediately  laid  the 
matter  before  him.  She  was  sufficiently  wise  to  say 
little  —  nothing,  in  fact,  but  that  the  delinquents  had 
wandered  away,  and  failed  to  return  in  time  to  take 
the  omnibus.  "  They  must  have  strayed  farther  than 
they  intended.  It  was  thoughtless,  certainly ;  but 
the  next  omnibus  will  bring  them,  without  doubt." 

"  And  you  think  I  was  right  to  return  with  the 
girls  ?  I  had  no  one  to  send  after  them,  you  know, 
and  if  we  had  lingered  there  until  dark  —  " 

"  0,  to  be  sure,"  answered  the  professor.  "  Your 
duty,  unquestionably,  was  to  see  that  the  girls  were 
cared  for  and  returned  at  a  proper  time."  And  he 
went  home  to  tea  somewhat  annoyed,  but  not  at  all 
uneasy  as  to  the  final  result. 

When  he  came  back  later  in  the  evening,  and  there 
were  still  no  tidings  of  the  professor  and  Katey,  he  be- 
gan to  be  seriously  alarmed.  The  conviction  that 
they  had  lost  their  way  forced  itself  upon  his  mind. 
He  knew  something  of  the  locality  where  they  had 
spent  the  afternoon.  It  was  wild  and  sparsely  set- 
tled. With  night  coming  on,  and  even  by  daylight, 
one  might  wander  for  hours  here  without  coming  upon 
a  house  or  the  turnpike,  which  wound  among  the  hills. 
He  called  Miss  Hersey  and  Miss  Wormley,  the  only 
teachers  in  the  house,  for  consultation.  The  growing  ex- 
citement among  the  girls  necessitated  some  action,  even 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  299 

if  common  humanity  did  not  demand  it.  It  was  long 
past  the  hour  of  retiring,  but  still  white-robed  figures 
flitted  about  the  dormitory  halls  or  gathered  upon  the 
stairs.  The  hasty  opening  of  the  library  door,  where 
the  three  teachers  had  met  together,  was  followed  by 
the  sound  of  scurrying  feet  and  the  disappearance  of 
ghostly  forms  into  the  darkness  of  the  music-room  and 
up  the  stairway  beyond. 

And  now,  at  the  midnight  council  held  in  the  library, 
Miss  Wormley  ventured  to  go  a  step  farther.  It  was 
useless,  in  her  opinion,  —  which,  perhaps,  counted  for 
nothing,  —  to  search  for  the  missing  ones,  since  they 
were,  doubtless,  miles  away  before  this  time. 

"I  —  I  do  not  understand."  Professor  Payne's 
mind  was  slow  in  its  operation.  He  stared  at  her  al- 
most stupidly  ;  his  under  jaw  dropped,  his  faded  blue 
eyes  fixed  in  their  expression  of  perplexity. 

"  I  mean,"  she  went  on,  boldly,  "  that  no  one  could 
be  lost  there  in  broad  daylight.  That  is  all." 

She  threw  up  her  chin  by  a  sudden  movement  as 
she  spoke,  bringing  her  eyes  upon  a  level  with  a  row 
of  volumes  in  the  library  devoted  to  the  discussion  of 
original  sin.  It  was  good  to  see  the  air  of  conscious 
and  severe  virtue  displayed  in  her  countenance  at 
this  moment. 

"  For  shame ! "  exclaimed  Miss  Hersey,  hotly. 
"  There  is  nothing  so  mean  as  insinuations  —  and 
against  those  who  cannot  defend  themselves  !  "  She 
paused,  frightened  at  her  own  boldness.  The  over- 
charged weapon  had  recoiled ;  she  began  to  cry. 

Poor,  timid  little  Professor  Payne  was  at  his  wit's 
end.  He  had  called  them  together  for  deliberation  ; 
the  result  seemed  likely  to  be  a  quarrel.  Uncon- 


300  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

sciously  his  strong  sense  of  justice  ranged  him  upon 
Miss  Hersey's  side. 

"  Do  I  understand  you  to  prefer  charges  against 
Professor  Dyce  and  Miss  Earle  ?  "  he  demanded,  with 
a  kind  of  trembling  severity  in  his  voice. 

"  0,  no,  no  !  Not  at  all !  I  have  no  charges  to  pre- 
fer. It  is  nothing  to  "me,  I  am  sure  ;  "  and  Miss  Worm- 
ley  seemed  to  scent  a  very  pleasing  and  tranquillizing 
odor  in  the  air,  quite  above  the  heads  of  her  com- 
panions. 

"  If  you  mean  to  say  that  they  have  gone  away  de- 
liberately, we  can  easily  decide  that  by  visiting  their 
rooms,"  said  Miss  Hersey,  who  had  recovered  her 
dignity  by  this  time,  through  wrath,  which  does 
more  than  self-control,  sometimes,  towards  drying 
tears.  "  We  should  be  likely,  in  that  case,  to  find  a 
note  stating  their  intention,  or,  at  least,  some  signs  of 
preparation.  I  think  we  had  better  proceed  at  once," 
she  said  to  Professor  Payne,  who,  by  this  time,  was  in 
a  state  of  mind  to  accept  any  suggestion. 

Led  by  Miss  Hersey,  they  proceeded  to  Katey's 
room,  followed  and  accompanied  by  the  soft  rustle  of 
garments,  the  stealthy,  muffled  sound  of  unseen  feet, 
the  opening  and  closing  of  doors  in  the  darkness  but 
feebly  lighted  by  the  lamp  in  Miss  Hersey's  hand  — • 
all  of  which  ghostly  sounds  they  were  too  much  en- 
grossed to  heed  or  notice.  The  door  was  unlocked. 
Everything  in  the  little  corner  room  appeared  as 
usual  —  upon  the  table  an  open  book,  a  bit  of  em- 
broidery half  completed ;  the  very  air  of  the  place,  as 
the  light  flared  into  it,  was  peace  and  expectation  of 
return. 

They  descended  the  stairs  without  speaking,  and 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  301 

went  on  down  to  the  class-rooms,  among  which  was 
the  professor's  study.  The  door  was  locked,  but  after 
a  time  a  key  was  found  to  open  it.  Here,  too,  were 
no  marks  of  disorder,  no  suggestion  of  change.  Miss 
Wormley's  eyes  fastened  upon  a  sheet  of  paper  lying 
upon  the  writing-table.  It  was  a  half-written  letter. 
The  ink  had  dried  upon  the  pen  thrown  down  beside 
it  when  the  writer  was  called  away.  She  took  it  up. 

"  Really,"  began  Professor  Payne,  "  we  have  no 
right  —  " 

"  Listen  to  this,"  said  Miss  Wormley,  triumphantly  > 
and  read  aloud :  "  '  You  will  not  bo  surprised  at  any- 
thing you  hear  of  me,  since  my  future  movements  are 
so  uncertain,  especially  if  you  learn  that  I  have  left 
here  suddenly  — • '  "  And  there  the  letter  broke  off. 

Even  Miss  Horsey  was  startled.  "  It  may  not  refer 
to  this  matter  at  all,"  she  said  at  last,  recovering  her- 
self. "  We  all  know  him  to  have  had  large  interests 
at  stake  here.  The  suit  was  decided  some  little  time 
ago  in  his  favor.  There  is  nothing,  certainly,  to  keep 
him  here." 

"  Then  you  do  believe  he  has  gone  ?  "  Miss  Wormley 
said,  maliciously. 

"In  this  way?  No."  But  in  truth  Miss  Horsey 
did  not  know  what  to  believe. 

They  returned  to  the  library.  To  retire  to  their 
own  rooms  was  out  of  the  question.  The  weight  of 
responsibility  upon  two,  at  least,  of  the  party,  banished 
all  thought  of  sleep. 

Daylight  struggled  in  at  the  window,  and  still  they 
had  decided  upon  no  course  of  action.  Miss  Wormley 
dozed  in  her  chair.  Professor  Payne  and  Miss  Ilersey, 
chilled,  anxious,  and  miserable  in  body  and  mind,  after 


302  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

their  night  of  watching,  still  conversed  together  in 
low  tones  at  intervals.  If  Professor  Dyce  had  left  not 
to  return,  steps  must  be  taken  to  fill  his  place.  The 
trustees  must  be  informed  at  once.  What,  and  how 
much,  should  be  told  the  girls  ?  Who  would  fill  the  va- 
cant places  in  the  class-rooms  ?  or  could  the  school  go 
on  as  usual  ?  All  these  considerations  began  to  press 
upon  them  with  the  dawn.  Though  Miss  Hersey  had 
denied  stoutly  that  the  letter  found  in  his  study  had 
anything  to  do  with  Professor  Dyce's  disappearance, 
and  Professor  Payne  was  inclined  to  agree  with  her, 
it  had  still  so  far  influenced  both,  that  nothing  was  now 
said  of  sending  in  search  of  them. 

"  I  suppose  we  had  better  have  prayers,  as  usual," 
suggested  Professor  Payne  at  last,  when  signs  of  life 
began  to  make  themselves  apparent  throughout  the 
house.  The  poor  man  appeared  more  pinched,  and 
withered,  and  yellow  than  ever,  as  he  rose  up  and 
straightened  himself  feebly. 

"  Prayers !  "  exclaimed  Miss  Wormley,  in  a  sharp 
voice.  "  You  had  better  go  into  the  school -room,  and 
inform  the  girls  that  their  precious  teachers  have  ab- 
sconded, and  there  will  be  no  lessons,  or  prayers  either, 
till  you  have  laid  the  matter  before  the  authorities. 
Even  if  they  should  dare  attempt  to  return  now  — 

"  Miss  —  Miss  Wormley,"  interrupted  the  professor, 
"  there  is,  so  far  as  I  can  see,  no  occasion  to  create 
anarchy  or  disorder.  I  shall  of  course  put  the  whole 
matter  into  the  hands  of  the  trustees ;  but  in  the 
mean  time,  you  will  please  say  nothing  to  any  one  upon 
the  subject ; "  and  with  an  unusual  straightening  of 
the  thin  figure,  causing  a  surprising  number  of  wrinkles 
never  seen  before  in  the  back  of  the  rusty  black  coat, 


KATHERINE  EARLE,  303 

the  little  man  walked  stiffly  out  of  the  room  towards 
the  study-hall. 

Regret  that  he  had  not  despatched  some  one  at  once 
in  search  of  the  missing  ones  grew  upon  him  every 
moment,  especially  when  the  curiosity  and  excitement 
among  the  girls  became  manifest.  The  very  fact  that 
they  had  differed  so  widely  upon  the  questions  of  the 
day,  and  that  a  coldness  had  in  consequence  sprung 
up  between  them,  made  the  just  little  man,  who  was 
left  in  this  dilemma  to  manage  affairs,  fearful  lest  he 
had  not  done  his  duty.  And  at  last,  when  the  school 
had  been  organized  for  the  day,  with  an  attempt  to 
make  a  show  of  going  on  as  usual,  he  slipped  out  of 
the  house,  and  engaged  a  man  to  mount  a  horse  and 
scour  the  country  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  picnic 
ground.  But  of  this  he  said  nothing  to  any  one. 

Clary's  distress  can  be  imagined,  perhaps ;  it  was 
beyond  the  power  of  description.  She  dissolved  to 
tears  before  the  omnibuses  were  gained,  and  wept 
from  that  time  forward  in  a  feeble,  heart-broken  way, 
with  occasional  respites  of  wrath,  odd  little  unexpected 
bursts  of  anger,  which  dried  her  tears  for  a  time,  and 
perhaps  saved  her  from  entire  liquefaction.  No  at- 
tempt at  discipline  could  affect  her  conduct  in  the 
least.  She  wandered  about,  or  made  a  lay  figure  in 
the  school-room,  neither  studying  nor  attending  the 
recitations  of  her  classes,  with  ability  to  do  nothing 
but  mop  her  eyes  with  delicate  little  lace-edged  hand- 
kerchiefs —  for  grief,  even,  with  Clary,  must  have  its 
attendant  magnificence.  Although  by  no  means  pro- 
found in  her  reasoning  on  ordinary  occasions,  she  de. 
veloped  now  a  skill  and  acuteness  in  conjoining  cir- 
cumstances, with  a  boldness  in  uttering  convictions, 


304  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

which  did  much  towards  fostering  and  strengthening 
public  opinion  in  favor  of  the  absent  ones,  besides 
stirring  up  suspicion  and  girlish  outspoken  scorn  — 
which  know  neither  bounds  nor  reason  —  against  Miss 
Wormley.  Her  position  was  by  no  means  an  envi- 
able one,  even  before  the  afternoon,  when  the  despatch 
from  Professor  Dyce  arrived,  falling  like  a  bomb  in 
their  midst.  "  I  shall  return  to  La  Fayette  by  the 
evening  train,  with  Miss  Earle,  who  is  now  my  wife," 
it  read.  There  was  nothing  more. 

To  say  that  Professor  Payne — whose  messenger 
had  returned  before  now  from  his  useless  quest — re- 
joiced, would  too  feebly  express  it.  If  anything  so 
dried  and  stiffened  into  shape  as  his  countenance 
could  be  said  to  fairly  shine  and  sparkle,  this  was  true 
of  it  now.  He  walked  directly  into  the  school-room, 
stepped  upon  the  platform  before  Miss  Hersey,  who 
was  trying  to  enforce  the  semblance  of  a  study  hour, 
with  the  assurance  of  utter  self-forgetfulness,  and  read 
the  message  aloud,  ending  it  with  a  kind  of  glorified 
glare  at  the  girls,  conceived  as  a  radiant  smile.  And 
they  appreciated  the  act,  bless  their  dear  warm  hearts, 
north  and  south  !  For  the  first  time  they  understood 
each  other.  A  great  shout  went  up  from  the  whole 
school.  They  sprang  from  their  seats,  and  crowded 
around  the  little  man,  who  by  this  time  had  retired 
into  his  shell  again,  frightened  at  himself  and  them. 
But  they  would  not  be  repulsed,  and  with  a  little  ner- 
vous laugh,  and  a  trembling  quaver  in  his  weak  voice, 
he  could  only  assure  them,  over  and  over  again,  that 
he  really  knew  nothing  but  what  he  had  learned  from 
the  despatch.  Miss  Wormley,  passing  through  the 
school-room,  heard  the  message,  felt  the  shout  of  joy 


KATHERINE  EARLE,  305 

like  the  trembling  of  the  earth  under  her  feet,  and 
crept  away  to  her  own  room  to  hide  her  mortification 
and  rage  as  best  she  could.  She  had  failed.  .  There 
remained  nothing  for  her  but  to  accept  the  fact,  and 
try  to  avert  whatever  consequences  would  be  likely 
to  fall  upon  her  head.  At  least  they  could  prove 
nothing  against  her.  Even  Professor  Dyce  must  ac- 
knowledge that  her  duty  was  to  return  to  town  with 
the  girls  in  her  charge.  If  no  one  was  sent  after 
them,  —  for  she  knew  nothing  of  Professor  Payne's  at- 
tempt,—  it  was  not  her  fault  alone.  Certainly  she 
should  not  lose  her  position  in  the  school.  If  it  came 
to  that,  public  sentiment  in  the  town  would  sustain 
her  against  Professor  Dyce.  There  was  but  one  rule 
in  these  days  of  excited  feeling  by  which  any  man's 
conduct  was  to  be  measured,  and  there  the  professor 
would  fall  short.  He  was  a  marked  man  now,  she 
knew.  He  must  go  before  long,  or  suffer  the  conse- 
quences of  remaining.  Could  she  not  hasten  his  de- 
parture —  or  worse  ?  She  could  do  nothing.  She 
was  a  woman,  and  believed  in  a  woman's  circum- 
scribed sphere ;  but  a  spring  touched  by  the  lightest 
fingers  moves  mightily  sometimes. 
20 


306  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

NORTH  AND   SOUTH. 

MISS  WORMLEY  was  the  first  to  greet  the  pro- 
fessor and  Katey  when  they  descended  to  break- 
fast the  next  morning.  She  had  decided  upon  her 
course  o£  action,  in  which  affability  and  a  show  of 
warm  interest  were  to  take  a  prominent  part. 

"  We  were  very  anxious  about  you  for  a  time,"  she 
said  to  Professor  Dyce. 

The  girls,  who  had  gathered  around  them,  waited 
breathlessly  for  what  would  follow. 

"  Ah,  were  you  ?  "  the  professor  replied,  with  an 
odd  smile  ;  "  there  was  no  occasion,  you  see  ;  "  and  he 
passed  on  to  his  place.  He  had  no  desire  for  a  scene  ; 
he  could  afford  to  be  generous  ;  but  above  all,  he  did 
not  intend  to  gratify  the  curiosity  which  spoke  ill 
every  line  of  the  woman's  face.  With  the  exception 
of  Professor  Payne  and  Miss  Hersey,  no  one  in  the 
house  knew,  or  should  be  made  to  know,  of  the  events 
of  the  past  two  days.  Among  the  girls  it  came  to  be 
believed  that  they  had  chosen  this  abrupt  manner  of 
changing  their  relations  to  avoid  comment,  and  a  pro- 
longed discussion  of  the  act ;  and  as  everything  at 
once  went  on  as  usual,  except  that  Katey  resigned  her 
classes,  excitement  and  curiosity  soon  died  out.  Pro- 
fessor Payne's  hesitation,  and  the  slow  process  by 


KATHERINE   EARLE.  307 

which  he  reached  any  conclusion,  served  them  well, 
since  he  had  not  yet  laid  the  matter  before  the  trus- 
tees when  the  telegraphic  message  arrived.  Something 
of  the  story  did  creep  out  into  the  town,  where  Pro- 
fessor Dyce  was  already  conspicuous  for  the  suit  he 
had  recently  gained,  as  well  as  for  his  northern  sympa- 
thies. People  wondered  that  he  still  pursued  his 
medical  studies,  and  held  his  position  in  the  school, 
now  that  all  personal  effort  for  his  support  was  un- 
necessary. It  could  only  be  accounted  for  upon  the 
ground  of  eccentricity,  to  which  this  strange  episode, 
concerning  which  various  fanciful  stories  were  told, 
was  also  attributed.  One  may  do  the  most  unheard-of 
deeds  with  tolerable  impunity  when  once  the  repu- 
tation for  oddity  is  well  established. 

Katey's  first  act  when  the  professor  had  left  her  to 
attend  his  classes,  the  morning  after  their  return,  was 
to  write  Delphine  and  Jack  of  her  marriage,  reserving 
all  particulars  of  the  event  until  they  should  meet. 
Delphine's  reply  reached  her  some  days  before  Jack's, 
her  letter  to  him  having  strayed  in  many  directions 
before  finally  gaining  his  camp  upon  the  Potomac. 
The  Estemeres,  it  seemed,  had  already  returned  from 
the  continent,  and  were  in  London.  They  would  sail 
for  home,  probably,  in  a  fortnight.  Mr.  Estemere, 
alarmed  at  the  depredations  of  the  Confederate  cruis- 
ers, believed  further  delay  to  be  dangerous,  and  had 
concluded  his  business  as  hastily  as  possible. 

"  MY  DEAR  KATEY  [Delphine  wrote]  :  To  think 
you  are  married  !  I  can  hardly  write  for  astonish- 
ment. And  you  said  there  were  no  young  men  at  La 
Fayette  !  I  remember  something  of  Mr.  Dyce,  or  I 


308  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

have  certainly  heard  of  him  through  the  Homes,  and 
congratulate  you  heartily  —  and  him.  If  it  were  any 
one  but  you,  dear,  I  confess  I  should  be  shocked  and 
alarmed ;  but  you  always  were  the  soul  of  prudence, 
and  have  grown  to  have  the  coolest  little  head  im- 
aginable. I  dare  trust  you,  Katey,  and  am  prepared 
to  thoroughly  like  my  brother-in-law.  Of  course  you 
will  come  to  us  at  once  upon  our  return  home." 

Then  she  went  on  to  speak  of  their  intentions,  and 
change  of  plan. 

"  The  soul  of  prudence  ! "  thought  Katey,  laying 
down  the  letter.  How  little  Delphine  knew  of  her ! 

Jack's  reply  came  a  few  days  later.  The  professor 
brought  it  in  one  evening.  She  was  sitting  in  the 
president's  parlor,  which  was  her  parlor  now,  a  little 
dull,  a  little  —  not  lonely,  perhaps,  but  she  missed  the 
noisy  girls  always  invading  the  corner  room  in  the 
other  building  upon  the  slightest  pretext,  or  quite  as 
often  upon  none  at  all,  and  Clary,  who  had  been  her 
shadow,  but  whom  she  saw  less  frequently  now.  She 
missed,  too,  the  cares  and  duties  which  had  formerly 
filled  all  her  days,  and  made  every  hour  of  rest  and 
leisure  a  real  delight ;  she  was  not  yet  wonted  to  her 
new  life. 

The  long  room  was  still  bare  and  uninviting.  They 
had  made  no  attempt  to  beautify  it.  "  We  may  go 
any  day,"  the  professor  said.  So,  although  a  month 
had  elapsed  since  they  came  here,  her  books  and  pic- 
tures, gathered  hastily  from  the  other  house,  had  never 
been  set  in  their  places,  or  hung  upon  the  walls.  It 
was  like  a  cheerless  caravansary,  where  they  rested 
for  a  night,  before  taking  up  their  pilgrimage  again. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  309 

She  had  been  'alone  for  an  hour.  She  was  often 
alone  now.  It  was  not  the  dullness  of  the  place,  nor 
of  her  life,  after  all,  which  had  so  affected  her.  Many 
women  had  been  happier  with  less  of  luxury  or  society 
about  them ;  she  had  been  happier  camping  in  the  open 
fields ;  but  there  had  risen  between  the  husband  and 
wife  of  so  short  a  time  a  coldness  and  reserve  to  which 
every  day  added  its  stone.  Or,  more  truly,  there  had 
been  no  open  confidence  between  them  from  the  first. 
Katey  was  awed,  and  driven  back  upon  herself,  in  the 
parlor  of  the  little  farm-house,  by  the  revelation  of  the 
professor's  passionate  love.  She  had  come  now  almost 
to  doubt  her  judgment  on  that  day.  Certainly  nothing 
could  be  more  grave  and  undemonstrative  than  his  man- 
ner towards  her  since  then  ;  thoughtful,  too  thoughtful 
at  times  of  her  comfort,  since  she  had  grown  to  look 
upon  his  tender  care  as  prompted  by  duty  alone.  He 
had  doubtless  been  disappointed  in  her  —  they  were 
so  nearly  strangers  to  each  other,  although  they  had 
lived  so  long  beneath  the  same  roof;  or  had  it  only 
been  pity  and  generosity,  of  which  she  had  taken  such 
cruel  advantage  ?  Could  she  have  been  so  mistaken  ? 
She  had  tried  at  the  first  to  be  her  own  natural  self, 
with  the  result  peculiar  to  a  novice  in  acting  a  part. 
She  appeared  only  constrained  and  self-conscious.  All 
the  odd,  impulsive  ways  in  which  her  nature  had 
been  used  to  speak  unconsciously,  were  checked  now. 
Truly  there  is  no  one  so  difficult  to  copy  as  one's  self. 

She  had  thought,  sitting  alone  in  the  church  that 
day,  waiting  for  the  professor  to  come,  how  she  would 
strive  to  please  him,  being,  even  then,  she  could  see 
now,  proud,  as  well  as  sure,  of  his  affection,  which  in 
time  she  would  be  able,  without  doubt,  to  return. 


310  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Poor,  foolish  Katey !  full  of  fancies  and  unattainable 
ideas,  blinding  her  to  the  present  and  the  real  !  And 
now  it  was  all  changed  ;  even  in  these  few  short  weeks 
everything  seemed  changed.  Nothing  in  the  world 
appeared  to  her  of  so  much  value  as  his  love,  and  yet 
she  had  lost  it.  How?  when?  or  had  it  ever  been 
hers  ?  She  could  not  tell. 

She  had  moved  about  restlessly  all  through  the  day, 
unable  to  put  herself  to  work,  with  no  desire  to  take 
up  a  book.  The  mood  had  passed  now  like  a  fever 
turn,  and  left  her  quiet,  but  languid  and  weak.  Pro- 
fessor Payne  had  intercepted  her  husband  on  his  way 
from  tea,  and  drawn  him  into  the  library.  He  came  to 
the  parlor  a  moment,  before  going  over  to  the  school- 
room for  the  evening  study  hour.  The  shutters  were 
closed,  the  gas  was  lighted,  and  Katey  sat  over  the 
fire,  her  hands  folded  listlessly  in  her  lap.  Her  hair 
was  drawn  back  from  her  face.  Was  it  this,  or  the 
light  falling  upon  it  from  above,  which  made  it  appear 
paler  than  it  used,. and  had  laid  heavy  shadows  under 
the  eyes  ? 

He  stood  just  within  the  door,  regarding  the  drooping 
figure  with  an  expression  of  anxiety,  almost  of  pain. 

"  Do  you  want  anything  ?  Can  I  do  anything  ?  " 
And  she  rose  in  a  flurried  way,  becoming  aware  of  his 
presence  at  last. 

"  I  am  on  my  way  to  the  school-room ;  perhaps  you 
would  like  to  go."  He  had  hesitated  over  the  sug- 
gestion, coming  forward  as  he  uttered  it. 

"  No,  thank  you."  And  she  sat  down  again ;  but 
now  she  took  some  work  from  the  little  stand  beside 
her,  and  began  to  busy  herself  over  it. 

He  leaned  against  the  mantel,  looking  down  upon 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  311 

the  bent  head  and  slender,  nervous  fingers,  which 
trembled  a  little  under  his  eyes.  One  of  them  bore 
the  odd  chased  ring  which  had  belonged  to  his  moth- 
er ;  it  was  Katey's  wedding  ring.  He  sighed  as  he 
turned  away  to  the  door  again. 

Katey  dropped  her  work  when  he  had  gone.  She 
rested  her  head  upon  her  hand,  and  fell  to  dreaming. 
It  might  have  been  an  hour,  it  might  have  been  only 
a  moment,  when  the  door  opened,  and  he  appeared 
again.  "  Miss  Hersey  will  sit  in  the  school-room  to- 
night," he  said  when  Katey's  face  expressed  her  sur- 
prise. Then  he  laid  a  letter  upon  the  table  before 
her.  From  Jack  !  Her  listlessness  vanished  at  once. 
Her  eyes  shone,  her  face  was  all  eagerness  and  delight, 
as  she  tore  it  open. 

It  was  a  very  brief  letter,  indited  after  Jack's  cus- 
tomary style,  which  rivalled  the  proverbs  of  Solomon 
in  conciseness,  but  with  a  boldness  of  chirography 
which  made  up  for  all  deficiencies  of  material,  and 
spread  the  few  words  over  the  whole  sheet. 

"  DEAR  KATEY  [he  wrote] :  Mail  about  to  close ;  so 
I  hasten  to  send  a  line.  Yours  just  rec'd.  I  am  as- 
tonished at  you  ;  expected  you  would  do  something 
unheard-of  away  off  there  alone.  You  never  could 
take  care  of  yourself.  [Ah,  Jack  knew.]  I  shall  come 
on  as  soon  as  I  can  get  a  leave  of  absence,  and  see 
Avliat  is  to  be  done.  In  the  mean  time  you  must  go 
directly  to  Josie.  [The  professor  was  quite  ignored 
in  his  calculations.]  Shall  write  her  by  this  mail. 
She  is  riot  coming  to  Washington  at  present,  our 
movements  are  so  uncertain. 

"  lu  haste,  your  affec.  brother, 

"  JACK." 


312  KATHERINE  'EARLE. 

Katey  laughed  as  she  read  the  letter,  much  as  she 
used  to  laugh  long  ago,  or  even  a  little  time  ago,  be- 
fore the  chill  which  had  checked  everything  like  mer- 
riment had  crept  over  her.  It  was  so  like  hot-headed 
Jack,  who  evidently  believed  that  his  presence  alone 
was  necessary  to  annul  the  marriage,  and  make  all  as 
it  should  be  ! 

Professor  Dyce  was  lying  back  in  an  arm-chair,  re- 
garding her  as  she  read  it.  The  weary  expression 
which  was  becoming  habitual  to  his  face,  lifted  for  a 
moment  at  the  sound  of  her  laugh.  She  turned  to 
him,  with  a  little  quick,  natural  movement,  holding 
out  the  letter.  Then  she  drew  it  back ;  she  had  dis- 
covered a  postscript. 

"  Whom  should  I  meet  one  day  here  but  Dacre 
Home,"  Jack  wrote.  "  He  is  in  the  camp  adjoining 
ours.  Deserted  from  the  rebels,  they  say,  but  is 
awfully  plucky.  Won  some  bars  for  his  sleeve  at  Big 
Bethel,  where,  according  to  the  boys,  he  tried  to  throw 
his  life  away.  It  may  make  a  man  of  him  yet.  He 
knows  me,  of  course ;  but  we  never  speak." 

Katey  read  it,  her  face  growing  warm.  It  might, 
indeed,  make  a  man  of  him,  as  Jack  said.  Poor  Chris- 
tine !  would  it  add  any  joy  to  her  life  ? 

She  held  the  letter  in  her  hands,  hesitating  an  in- 
stant before  giving  it  to  the  professor.  She  was 
ashamed,  feeling  her  face  so  warm ;  Dacre  Home's 
name  had  never  been  mentioned  between  them.  She 
was  glad,  only  glad  for  this  hope  of  his  future  ;  but 
would  the  professor  understand  it  ?  She  almost  wished 
Jack  had  not  written  of  him. 

The  professor  saw  the  blush,  marked  the  momentary 
hesitation.  "  It  is  from  Jack,"  she  said,  holding  it  out 
to  him. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  313 

"And  what  does  Jack  say?"  He  spoke  in  the 
grave,  kind  tone  to  which  Katey  was  so  accustomed, 
but  made  no  movement  to  take  the  letter. 

« It  is  very  short ;  won't  you  read  it  ?  Only  don't 
mind  Jack,"  she  added,  hastily,  remembering  the  first 
part  of  the  letter,  which,  for  the  moment,  had  slipped 
from  her  memory.  She  watched  his  face,  over  which 
an  amused  smile  passed  as  he  read  the  few  lines  re- 
ferring to. their  marriage.  "  He  has  always  taken  care 
of  me,"  she  explained,  quickly. 

"  Yes,  I  see  ; "  and  he  fell  into  a  reverie. 

He  had  not  turned  the  page.  Should  she  remind 
him  of  the  postscript,  or  let  it  pass  ? 

"  There  is  something  more  upon  the  other  side," 
she  said  ;  and  he  took  up  the  sheet  again.  As  his 
eyes  left  the  last  word,  they  were  lifted  to  hers ;  but 
there  was  neither  doubt  nor  suspicion  in  the  glance. 

"I  am  very  glad,"  she  said,  quietly,  meeting  his 
glance  without  shrinking.  "  It  may  do  everything  for 
him,  as  Jack  says."  Then  she  bent  over  her  work  as 
she  went  on,  "  I  know  a  girl  who  will  rejoice  over  any 
good  news  of  him,  for  she  expects  to  be  his  wife." 

She  hoped  he  would  offer  some  remark,  ask  a  ques- 
tion, say  anything  which  would  call  for  some  word 
more  definite  from  her  lips  in  regard  to  Christine  ;  but 
there  was  only  silence  in  the  long,  bare  room.  Out- 
side a  little  stir,  a  faint  commotion,  had  arisen.  The 
evening  had  turned  warm,  and  though  a  low  fire 
burned  in  the  grate,  she  had  left  her  seat,  and  opened 
one  of  the  windows.  It  might  be  this  which  had  filled 
the  room  with  a  sound  as  of  muffled  voices  and  moving 
feet,  bringing  the  street  strangely  near.  She  checked 
her  fingers,  drawing  the  needle  in  and  out,  to  listen. 


314  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

Everything  startled  her  now ;  she  was  nervous  and 
weak,  and  easily  alarmed  by  the  conflicting  reports 
which  each  day  brought  from  the  seat  of  war,  as  well 
as  the  strange  rumors  floating  about  town  of  possibili- 
ties nearer  home.  A  convention,  it  was  whispered, 
was  in  secret  session  even  now  to  vote  the  state  out 
of  the  Union.  Were  they  not  lingering  here  too 
long? 

"Hark!  what  is  that?  "as  a  low,  continuous  mur- 
mur, like  the  repressed  voices  of  a  multitude,  seemed 
all  at  once  to  fill  the  room.  The  professor  started  to 
his  feet,  when,  without  word  or  warning,  the  door  was 
thrown  open,  and  Professor  Payne  appeared.  His  face 
was  shrunken  and  gray  with  terror. 

"There  is  a  crowd  about  the  house,"  he  gasped, 
when  he  could  find  his  voice.  "I  —  I  greatly  fear 
for  you,  my  friend.  But  perhaps  you  might  escape 
now  through  the  garden." 

"  Don't  be  alarmed,"  said  Professor  Dyce,  laying 
his  hand  upon  Katey's  shoulder.  She  had  fallen  back 
upon  her  chair  white  and  trembling.  There  was  a 
strange,  resonant  ring  in  his  voice,  but  no  quaver  of 
fear. 

"  Go,  gro,"  Katey  tried  to  say. 

"  It  is  too  late  for  that,"  he  replied.  "  If  they  in- 
tend to  threaten,  they  have  surrounded  the  house 
already.  But  I  think  you  exaggerate  the  danger." 

The  murmur  of  voices  had  risen  to  a  shout  of 
"  Dyce  !  Dyce  !  " 

Then  Professor  Payne  rose  to  the  occasion.  "  I  will 
speak  to  them,"  said  the  little  man,  moving  towards 
the  door.  "  They  know  my  sentiments." 

Professor  Dyce  had  been  hastily  fastening  the  win- 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  315 

dow  shutters.  He  took  Katey  in  his  arms  as  though 
she  had  been  a  child,  bore  her  through  the  dressing- 
closet,  and  laid  her  upon  the  bed  in  the  room  beyond. 
Then  he  returned  to  the  parlor.  It  was  the  work  of 
an  instant.  "  Take  care  of  my  wife,"  to  Professor 
Payne,  and  he  was  gone. 

He  closed  the  heavy  outer  door  behind  him,  as  he 
stepped  out  suddenly  in  the  face  of  the  crowd.  The 
flaring  gas-light  below  him  lit  up  his  form  and  the 
strong,  calm  face  which  betrayed  no  signs  of  fear. 
The  unexpected  appearance,  when  they  had  anticipat- 
ed flight  or  resistance,  took  them  by  surprise,  and  in 
that  one  moment  he  had  a  chance  to  scan  the  mob 
which  surged  at  his  feet.  It  was  led,  he  saw  at  once, 
by  a  bully,  as  such  an  assemblage  invariably  is  —  a 
great  hulking  fellow,  whom  he  recognized  at  once  as  a 
man  employed  about  the  office  of  the  lawyer  who  had 
opposed  his  claims  to  the  estate  he  had  recently 
gained.  "  Ah  !  "  he  said  to  himself,  "  it  is  easy  to 
recognize  the  lever  to  this  movement;  "  and  he  was 
confident  as  to  the  identity  of  certain  shadowy  forms 
hovering  upon  the  outskirts  of  the  crowd  ;  public  dis- 
turbances serve  private  ends  often  and  well.  For 
the  most  part  it  was  made  up  of  the  idle  and  curious, 
among  whom  women  were  plainly  discernible  ;  one, 
with  an  old  black  shawl  covering  her  figure,  hid  her 
pallid  face  and  blinking  eyes  behind  a  thick  veil. 

•"  Ah,  Jim  Boles,  is  that  you  ?  "  said  the  professor, 
in  a  cool,  almost  jocular  tone  of  familiarity,  singling 
out  the  leader,  who  had  pressed  to  the  front,  sur- 
rounded by  a  staff  of  ragged,  half-grown  boys  ;  "  what 
do  you  want  ?  " 

The  man  had  worked  himself  to  tho  point  of  hero- 


316  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

ism.  He  had  even  learned  a  little  speech  for  the  oc- 
casion, in  which  "  liberty  "  and  "  the  stars  and  bars," 
often  repeated,  were  to  act  a  telling  part.  This  ab- 
rupt, simple  question  drove  it  at  once  from  his  mind, 
and  seemed  to  reduce  the  whole  affair  to  a  very  ordi- 
nary occurrence,  with  no  opportunity  for  sentiment  or 
poetry,  in  which  he  secretly  delighted. 

"  Hang  out  the  flag,  d — n  ye  !  "  he  added,  under  his 
breath,  making  up  for  his  clipped  eloquence  by  an 
oath,  and  bringing  from  under  his  coat,  as  he  spoke, 
a  small  Confederate  flag  tightly  furled,  which  was  to 
have  been  waved  at  a  certain  point  in  his  speech. 
The  sight  of  it,  the  sudden  flaming  out  of  its  colors 
before  the  crowd,  whose  excitement  had  fallen  to 
curiosity,  might  have  roused  it  to  frenzy.  So  much 
could  a  bit  of  bunting  do  when  it  represented  an  idea 
for  which  men  died  ! 

The  professor  leaned  down  and  took  it  carelessly. 
It  was  like  gunpowder,  he  knew,  and  the  eyes  of  the 
people  before  him  were  sparks.  He  rolled  it  still 
more  closely  in  his  hands,  as  though  unconsciously, 
while  he  replied,  "  And  make  myself  liable  to  arrest 
for  treason  ?  You  forgot  that  the  United  States  still 
holds  jurisdiction  here.  You  had  better  go  home  and 
to  bed,  Jim." 

"  You'll  have  to  be  up  early  to  take  down  thrt 
shutters,  you  know,"  added  a  piping  voice  in  the 
crowd. 

A  laugh  rose  around  the  already  discomfited  leader. 
One's  followers  are  not  always  one's  friends.  "  They 
seem  to  be  just  a  talkin'  pleasant  like,"  one  man  ex- 
plained to  another,  who  was  too  far  away  to  hear. 
And  this  ran  down  through  the  crowd,  which  began 


KA  THERINE  EARLE.  317 

slowly  to  disperse,  followed  by  the  laugh,  which  con- 
firmed the  impression  that  nothing  was  to  be  done, 
after  all.  In  five  minutes  the  street  was  deserted,  or 
given  up  to  its  usual  passers,  when  a  squad  of  police 
came  up  the  hill  in  great  apparent  haste  to  inquire 
into  the  disturbance. 

"  There  is  no  disturbance,  gentlemen,"  Professor 
Dyce  replied.  "  I  can  only  regret  that  you  should  have 
been  annoyed  by  such  a  report,"  he  added.  But  the 
sergeant  blustered  and  stormed,  and  insisted  upon  pla- 
cing a  guard  about  the  house  for  the  night.  "  As  you 
please,"  the  professor  said,  coolly,  turning  to  re-enter 
the  door.  But  what  was  this  figure  shrinking  back 
into  the  deep  shadowy  doorway  ? 

"  Katey  !  " 

"  Don't  be  angry ;  but  indeed  I  could  not  stay  there. 
It  was  no  fault  of  his  ;  j'  as  poor  little  Professor  Payne, 
who,  true  to  his  trust,  would  not  be  left,  stepped  out 
from  behind  her.  There  was  no  time  to  blame  or 
praise,  for  the  whole  school,  headed  by  Miss  Ilersey, 
came  crowding  in  from  the  music-room  at  that  mo- 
ment, Clary,  for  once  too  frightened  to  cry,  having 
outstripped  the  others. 

"  It  is  all  over ;  and  indeed  there  was  no  cause  for 
alarm,"  the  professor  hastened  to  say,  and  dismissed 
them.  In  those  days  a  man's  foes  were  truly  of  his 
<>\vii  household,  he  realized,  when  more  than  one  pair 
of  flashing  eyes  and  white  lips  met  his  glance  as  the 
girls  turned  reluctantly  back. 

Miss  Wormley  appeared  in  their  midst  as  they  wore 
saying  good  night.  There  was  an  unusual  color  in 
her  face,  and  she  breathed  heavily,  like  one  who  had 
come  in  great  haste.  Something  like  rain-drops 


318  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

sparkled  upon  her  gown.  Outside  a  sudden  shower 
had  risen  —  a  gust  of  wind  and  rain,  heavy  and  angry, 
boating  against  the  windows,  and  drowning  the  sound' 
of  their  voices. 

"  0,  did  you  know  —  ?  "  began  one  of  the  girls  in  a 
shrill  tone,  recognizing  her  as  a  new  comer. 

She  felt  Professor  Dyce's  keen  eyes.  In  spite  of 
her  efforts,  the  color  spread  and  deepened  upon  her 
face. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied,  hastily ;  "  it  was  dreadful  —  was 
it  not  ?  " 

"  0,  very"  responded  the  professor,  grimly,  forcing 
her  blinking  eyes  to  meet  his  straightforward  glance. 
"  The  shower,  you  mean  ?  "  Then  he  turned  and 
entered  the  parlor.  She  knew  that  he  understood 
her,  that  he  had  fathomed  her  designs.  Ah,  well,  she 
thought,  then  I  may  work  openly.  But  that  night  she 
lost  the  opportunity  forever. 

Professor  Payne  and  Miss  Hersey  awaited  Professor 
Dyce  in  his  parlor.  He  closed  the  door  after  him, 
threw  himself  into  the  chair  he  had  left  so  suddenly 
earlier  in  the  evening,  and,  resting  his  forehead  upon 
his  hands,  seemed  lost  in  thought. 

"  What  is  this,  about  a  convention  ?  "  he  asked  at 
last,  abruptly,  rousing  himself. 

Professor  Payne  looked  timidly,  fearfully,  from  one  to 
another  of  the  littlo  group.  They  were  all  enemies  to 
the  cause,  he  knew.  Still  a  few  days,  perhaps  even 
hours  later,  it  would  be  no  secret.  "  It  may  adjourn 
to-night,"  he  replied  ;  and,  with  a  sudden  glow  upon 
the  faded  cheeks,  "  we  shall  carry  the  state." 

"  You  never  toiU."  Then  Professor  Dyce  checked 
himself.  Why  discuss  again  the  subject  which  of  late 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  319 

had  never  been  broached  between  them  ?  "  Our  time 
has  come,"  he  said  to  Katey.  "  We  must  leave  at 
once."  Years  afterwards,  looking  back  upon  this 
hour,  and  the  timid  little  man  who  had  been  his 
steadfast  friend,  it  was  comforting  to  remember  that 
they  trusted  each  other  to  the  last,  and,  though  they 
went  far  asunder  as  the  poles,  no  bitter  words  passed 
between  them.  "  And  you — "  to  Miss  Hersey — "  will 
you  go  with  us  ?  " 

The  two  women  stood  holding  each  other  by  the 
hand.  Katey  tightened  her  clasp.  The  color  swept 
over  Miss  Hersey's  face,  then  it  was  pale  again. 

"  My  home  is  here,"  she  said.     "  No ;  I  will  stay." 

"  There  is  no  time  to  lose,"  interrupted  Professor 
Payne,  nervously ;  "  even  now  you  may  find  it  difficult 
to  leave  town,  after  what  has  occurred  to-night.  Cer- 
tainly you  can  take  nothing  with  you.  The  best  plan 
would  be  to  catch  the  midnight  train  north,  at  Little-' 
ton,  if  you  could  be  carried  over  there." 

And  so  the  matter  was  finally  decided,  and  Pro- 
fessor Payne  hastened  away  to  secure  a  conveyance, 
ostensibly  for  his  own  use. 

The  moment  their  conference  was  broken  up,  Katey 
.retired  to  her  bedroom  to  select  a  few  necessary  arti- 
cles which  could  be  thrust  into  a  hand  satchel,  and 
arrange,  as  best  she  could,  the  remainder  of  her 
wardrobe  and  personal  effects  which  were  to  be  left 
behind. 

She  was  kneeling  upon  the  floor  before  a  half-filled 
trunk,  confusion  and  disorder  about  her,  danger  per- 
]i;i]»s  ahead,  and  yet  happier  than  she  had  been  for 
weeks.  They  were  to  take  up  their  wanderings  again. 
Where  they  were  going  she  had  not  thought  to  ask. 


320  *    KATHERINE  EARLh. 

It  did  not  matter.  Her  hat  and  cloak  were  thrown 
upon  a  chair  near  by,  ready  to  put  on.  A  moment 
more  and  the  professor  would  come  for  her.  The 
door  opened,  and  he  entered  the  room. 

"  Don't  let  me  disturb  you.  It  is  not  yet  time  to 
start,"  he  said,  moving  about  restlessly  as  she  went 
on  with  her  work.  All  at  once  he  paused  at  a  little 
distance,  his  arms  folded,  his  gaze  upon  her.  "  You 
have  not  asked  where  you  are  going." 

"  No,"  she  answered,  brightly ;  "  I  don't  care." 

"  So  that  you  leave  here,"  he  added.  "  You  are 
right.  It  was  folly  to  remain  so  long." 

Why  did  he  speak  so  sadly  ?  Katey  looked  up  in 
haste.  Was  he  ill,  that  there  should  have  come  such 
a  whiteness  to  his  face  ?  Care  and  the  annoyances  of 
the  past  few  days  had  worn  upon  him.  He  should 
rest  when  they  were  once  safely  away. 

"  I  think  you  had  better  go  immediately  to  your 
sister-in-law.  Jack  wished  it,"  he  went  on.  "  And 
Mrs.  Estemere  has,  perhaps,  arrived  by  this  time.  I 
shall  take  you  there  myself,  and  see  that  you  are  com- 
fortably settled.  You  will  be  happy  with  your  own 
friends,  and  I  am  glad  to  feel  that  you  need  want  for 
nothing.  I  am  not  a  poor  man  now,  you  know.  But 
I  shall  arrange  all  that." 

He  spoke  hurriedly,  almost  disconnectedly.  Katey 
only  stared,  without  reply,  when  he  paused.  She  had 
not  yet  gathered  the  meaning  of  his  words.  Of  course 
they  should  go  to  Josie,  or  to  Delphine,  if  she  had  re- 
turned. Katey  had  not  considered  the  subject  until 
now,  yet  this  was  the  most  natural  course  to  take,  she 
knew.  But  what  was  this  something  beneath  his 
Words  which  shocked  and  startled  her?  What  was 
he  saying? 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  321 

"  I  fear  it  was  all  a  mistake  from  the  beginning.  But 
it  is  too  late  to  go  back  to  that  now." 

His  voice  sounded  hoarse  over  the  last  words.  His 
face  was  turned  away.  Then  he  went  on  in  his  usual 
deep,  grave  tone. 

"  /  shall  go  at  once  to  Washington,  and  apply  for  a 
position  in  the  field  or  in  some  hospital ;  wherever  I 
can  hope  to  be  of  use." 

"  And  leave  ME  ? "  She  had  found  her  voice  at 
last.  The  words  came  like  a  cry  of  pain.  The  pretty 
white  gown  she  was  folding  fell  out  of  her  hands,  as 
she  sprang  from  the  floor.  "  0,  you  wouldn't  do  that. 
I  should  never  be  a  care  to  you,"  she  pleaded,  hurried- 
ly, forgetting  her  fears,  her  pride,  everything  but  this 
terrible  vision  of  a  dark  possible  future.  "  I  would 
go  anywhere,  do  anything ;  I  am  not  afraid  of  hard- 
ships ;  only  take  me.  I  can't  be  left  behind,"  she 
cried.  "  Other  women  follow  their  husbands ;  why 
should  not  I  ?  I  know  I  am  not  very  nice,  but  —  " 

"  Child  !  what  do  you  mean  ? "  He  seized  her 
almost  roughly,  and  held  her  off  for  an  instant  while 
he  read  the  pale  face  with  its  trembling  lines  of  pain 
and  terror.  Then  he  took  her  in  his  arms.  "  We  do 
not  deserve  happiness,"  he  said,  solemnly,  "  since  we 
have  almost  let  it  slip  out  of  our  hands." 

"  And  you  are  not  nice  ?  "  he  added,  presently.  He 
laughed  a  low,  happy  laugh.  "  Ah,  well,  I  will  try  to 
be  resigned." 

21 


322  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


CHAPTER  XXIX. 

MAEEIAGE   BELLS. 


is  a  blaze  of  light  in  Delphine's  city  home, 
J-  as  though  a  summer  day  had  Awakened,  —  night 
though  it  is,  —  with  its  arms  full  of  flowers.  They 
trail,  and  blossom,  and  peep  over  arch  and  door- 
way ;  they  hang  from  picture  and  chandelier  ;  they 
blush  and  nestle,  and  give  out  their  sweet  perfume 
everywhere.  The  Estemeres  have  returned,  and  to- 
night they  entertain  their  friends  in  honor  of  Katey's 
marriage  and  Jack's  coming  home.  For  Jack  has 
won  a  short  leave  of  absence  at  last,  though  he  has  re- 
signed all  thought  of  arranging  Katey's  affairs  anew. 

"  You  never  could  take  care  of  yourself/'  he  said, 
when  he  appeared  unexpectedly  to  them  all  one  day, 
and  had  released  Katey  from  his  bearish,  brotherly 
embrace. 

"  I  know,"  she  replied,  "  and  so  what  could  I  do 
but  allow  some  one  else  that  troublesome  privilege  !  " 
and  she  presented  her  husband.  Jack  gave  him  one 
keen  glance  from  his  handsome  eyes  as  the  professor 
came  forward,  by  no  means  abashed  by  this  encounter, 
with  a  laugh  on  his  lips  over  Katey's  characteristic 
speech,  and  the  hatchet  which  Jack  had  been  bran- 
dishing over  Katey's  captor  all  the  way  from  the 
banks  of  the  Potomac  was  buried  on  the  spot. 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  323 

In  one  of  the  upper  rooms  of  the  house  Katey  is 
putting  the  last  touches  to  her  toilet  for  the  evening. 
Happy  Katey !  who  feels  that  she  has  nothing  more 
to  desire,  and  is  almost  frightened  at  the  great  joy 
which  has  come  to  her.  She  sweeps  down  the  long 
room  like  a  queen  in  her  trailing  robes,  white  and 
shimmering.  There  are  orange  flowers  in  her  hair, 
and  a  veil  of  soft  lace,  caught  at  her  shoulders,  falls 
away  from  her  pretty  bare  arms.  She  recalls  her 
wedding  day  and  the  dusty,  torn,  gray  gown,  and 
smiles  over  the  remembrance.  She  will  always  pre- 
serve it,  to  the  day  of  her  death  ;  and  yet  it  is  pleasant 
to  be  a  bride,  and  wear  a  wedding  gown,  she  thinks  to- 
night. But  she  forgets  it  all  when  she  kneels  upon 
the  hearth-rug  before  the  professor. 

"  And  so  you  always  remembered  me  ?  "  she  says, 
dreamily,  her  eyes  upon  the  fire,  taking  up  the  con- 
versation interrupted  a  moment  before. 

""  Yes  ;  from  the  night  at  the  party,  when  you  came 
running  up  the  stairs  in  that  odd  flowered  gown,  with 
my  crutch  in  your  hand.  I  used  to  fancy,  when  I  was 
abroad,  years  afterwards,  that  I  would  come  home  arid 
find  you  out  some  day.  I  had  learned  your  name, 
you  know." 

"  But  you  never  told  me  at  La  Fayette  that  we  had 
met  before.  Perhaps  you  had  forgotten." 

"  By  no  means  ;  on  the  contrary,  I  recognized  your 
name  at  once,  and  flatter  myself  that  my  influence 
helped  to  turn  the  scale  in  your  favor  against  the 
many  applicants  for  the  place  you  sought  in  the 
school.  You  can  imagine,  perhaps,  my  curiosity  in 
regard  to  you ;  you  know  the  surprise  and  consterna- 
tion the  sight  of  you  at  first  awakened,  for  I  did  not 


324  KATHERINE  EARLE. 

hear  your  name  at  all  that  evening  at  Mrs.  Durant's, 
and  never  for  a  moment  suspected  that  you  were  the 
Miss  Earle  I  was  on  my  way  to  La  Fayette  to  meet. 
The  double  surprise  after  having  seen  you  masquer- 
ading at  the  Junction  was  almost  overpowering. 
You  were  a  fascinating  problem  in  those  few  first 
weeks  —  a  dangerous  one,  I  found  later." 

"  And  no  problem  at  all,  finally,"  Katey  added,  with 
a  soft  little  laugh. 

"  No ;  but  something  infinitely  better.  One  does 
not  care  to  take  an  enigma  for  a  wife.  There  are  cer- 
tain dangerous  possibilities  in  the  solution.  But  I 
had  almost  forgotten ; "  and  he  put  a  letter  into  her 
hand. 

"  From  Mina  Hauser  !  "  There  was  a  flutter  of 
cards  tied  with  white  ribbons,  as  Katey  opened  the 
envelope.  "  So  Mina  and  Hans  are  married  at  last !  " 
she  exclaimed,  joyously  ;  "  but  what  is  this  ?  "  and  she 
drew  out  a  little  note,  not  in  Mina's  round  hand.  It 
was  from  Christine,  and  as  she  read,  Katey's  face 
grew  warm  and  strangely  bright.  It  was  written  in 
the  hospital,  Camp  Fairfax,  Virginia,  and  a  few  lines 
will  suffice  to  quote  here.  "  I  know  it  all,"  Christine 
wrote  ;  "  Caere  has  told  me  while  I  sat  here  holding 
his  hand;  and  we  are  to  be  married  to-morrow.  I 
wanted  to  write  you  now,  before  I  slept.  Dear  Katey, 
how  can  I  ever  bless  you  enough  ?  He  wished  me  to 
write.  He  believes  you  will  be  glad  to  know.  He 
has  been  very  near  death ;  but  now  he  will  live,  the 
doctor  says.  0,  you  don't  know  what  that  means  to 
me.  He  has  won  his  shoulder-straps,  and  when  he  is 
able  to  return  to  camp,  I  am  to  go  with  him.  I  am 
never  to  leave  him  again.  And  Mina  is  married  and 


KATHERINE  EARLE.  325 

happy,  and  father  and  Wulf  are  well ;  but  no  one  is  so 
happy  as  I,  dear  Katey.  I  laugh  and  sing,  but  more 
often  I  cry.  To  laugh  is  not  enough.  It  seems  as 
though  one  must  shed  tears  over  such  great  joy." 

"  So  it  has  all  come  right  at  last,"  Katey  says,  softly, 
when  the  professor  has  put  the  letter  again  into  her 
hands.  "  Not  in  my  way ;  but  God's  ways  are  better 
than  ours." 

She  rests  her  cheek  against  his  knee,  thoughtful 
and  still.  The  little  French  clock  upon  the  mantel 
marks  the  passing  moments,  with  faint  subdued  ticks 
like  heart-beats. 

"  Please  salute  the  bride,"  she  says,  presently,  rais- 
ing the  broad,  smooth  forehead,  with  its  coronet  of  dark 
hair  ;  "  they  always  salute  the  bride,  you  know." 

He  takes  the  sweet,  grave  face  between  his  hands, 
and  kisses  her  lips. 

"  And  they  offer  good  wishes,"  she  adds. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  wife  1 " 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  KATHERINE  EARLE. 


AN  AMERICAN    GIRL   ABROAD. 

BY  ADELINE  TRAFTON. 

1  Volume.      16mo.      Illustrated.      Price,  $1.50. 

OPINIONS    OF    THE    PRESS. 

.  .  .  "  We  do  not  remember  when  we  have  enjoyed  so  rich  a  treat  as  this  affords." 
—  Christian  Weekly,  New  York. 

.  .  .  '.'  Altogether,  it  is  the  most  entertaining  book  of  the  kind  that  has  come  to 
hand  since  Mark  Twain  gave  the  world  the  benefit  of  his  'Innocents  Abroad."'  — 
Hearth  and  Home,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "  To  say  that  this  young  authoress  has  given  us  an  entertaining  book  of 
foreign  travel,  would  be  to  award  but  scant  praise  to  the  wit,  humor,  and  keen  appreci- 
ation of  all  that  she  encounters,  which  overflow  her  chapters  with  fresh  and  sparkling 
conceits."  —  Republican,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "We  can  assure  the  reader  that  this  book  of  travels  will  be  delightful  reading. 
One  feels  as  though  he  were  in  the  society  of  a  gay,  witty,  quick-eyed  girl,  full  of 
frolic,  enjoying  dearly  a  joke,  even  at  herself."  —  Courier-Journal,  Louisvill*. 

.  .  .  "A  bright,  merry-hearted  giil,  '  off  on  a  good  time  ;' and  she  and  her  readers 
are  decidedly  of  the  opinion  that  the  journey  was  a  grand  success.  One  very  seldom 
meets  with  so  graphically  amusing  an  account  of  a  sea  voyage  as  that  found  in  the  first 
chapter."  —Liberal  Christian,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "  A  narrative  of  a  tour  of  Europe,  written  in  a  piquant,  charming,  and  witty 
style.  The  writer  is  so  vivacious  and  genial  as  to  insure  universal  approbation.  As  a 
book  of  travel  it  is  unexceptional."  —  Gazette,  Louisville. 

.  .  .  "A  more  sprightly  and  graphic  book  of  travels  abroad  one  does  not  often 
read.  It  has  an  originality  all  its  own,  that  makes  it  uncommonly  fascinating.  Open 
it  where  you  will,  the  piece  attracts  and  holds  you  attracted."  — S.  S.  Times,  Phiia. 

.  .  .  "Miss  Trafton  never  forgets  her  nationality;  is  not  overawed  by  the  glitter 
of  wealth  and  show.  There  are  no  girlish  sentimentalisms,  no  rhapsodies  over  French 
fineries,  no  adoration  of  royal  grandeur  ;  neither  is  there  any  of  the  prudishness  or 
stilted  essayisms  of  the  strong-minded  woman  of  the  period.  It  is  the  free,  untram- 
melled, pure-hearted  girl,  that  takes  you  into  a  sweet  confidence,  and  tells  her  story 
just  as  a  noble,  sensible  girl  should  and  would.  She  captivates  you,  and  carries  you 
along  with  unabated  enthusiasm."  —  Literary  World,  Boston. 


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"  The  Old  Kentucky  Home? 

LORD    OF    HIMSELF. 

A  Novel. 

BY  FRANCIS  H.  UNDERWOOD. 

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.  .  .  "A  well-written  and  thoroughly  interesting  novel."  —  Daily  Graphic, 
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.  .  .  "Adds  to  its  attractiveness,  as  a  novel,  the  charm  of  elevated  sentiment, 
expressed  in  elegant  and  forcible  English."  —  Globe,  Boston. 

.  .  .  "  A  story  of  life  in  Kentucky  some  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  and  as  a 
picture  of  the  life  of  that  epoch,  this  book  possesses  great  merit  It  is  faithful,  vivid, 
and  spirited,  without  being  overdone."  —  Tribune,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "  It  may  be  said  of  '  Lord  of  Himself,'  that  it  is  a  good  story.  After  the 
reader  has  gone  a  few  pages  into  it,  he  is  curious  to  know  what  is  to  happen  in  the  last 
chapter.  It  is  also  a  full  story.  There  is  not  a  chapter  in  it  which  is  not  worth 
reading.  .  .  .  Mr.  Underwood  has  entertained  and  instructed  us.  He  has  given 
us  some  admirable  pictures  of  particular  people,  and  a  very  life-like  representation  of 
a  society  and  a  period."  —  New  York  Evening  Post. 

.  .  .  "  The  scene  of  the  story  changes  only  temporarily  from  the  neighborhood 
of  Beech  Knoll,  but  the  author  finds  there  abundant  variety  of  character  and  incident 
to  enrich  the  story.  And  of  the  studies  of  character,  it  ought  to  be  said  that  they  are 
excellent  Uncle  Ralph  Beauchamp,  the  Fleemister  family,  Howard,  the  New  Eng- 
lander,  Adams,  the  Hoosier  lawyer,  the  Wyndham  family,  and  Miss  Shelburn  and  the 
slaves,  are  all  careful  studies  in  character  delineation,  distinctly  individualized,  natural 
in  action,  and  neither  in  faults  nor  virtues  beyond  the  reasonable  capacity  of  human 
beings.  Their  relations  to  each  other  are  distinctly  defined,  and  they  severally  act 
their  parts  as  if  inspired  by  their  own  proper  motives."  —  Boston  Daily  Advertiser. 


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H 

By  the 

Author 

of 

"IN 

TRUST? 

O  M  E     NOOK 

Or,  The  Crown  of   Duty. 

BY  Miss  A.  M.  DOUGLAS. 

m 
9 

AUTHOR  OF   "STEPHEN  DANE,"   SVDNIE  ADRIANCB,"    "CLAUDIH,"  "KATHIB 
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•  «     .    "A  charming  picture  of  home  life."  —  Pres&yteriart  Banner,  Pittsburg. 

•  •     .    "The  book  is  a  charming  love  story." — Christian  Era,  Boston. 

•  •     .    "Designed  to  inculcate  high  moral  lessons."  —  Daily  Union,  Schenectady. 
.     .     .    "Miss  Douglas  is  rapidly  winning  fame  as  a  pleasing,  conscientious  wri- 
ter." —  Courier,  New  Haven. 

..."  Freighted  with  good  thoughts,  and  well  ballasted  with  good  sense." — 
Maine  Standard,  An. 

.  .  .  ''It  has  a  charm,  however,  peculiar  to  itself  in  the  perfect  simplicity  with 
which  it  is  told."  —  The  Spy,  Worcester. 

.  .  .  "Of  many  story-tellers,  few  have  handled  their  subject  with  such  delicate 
feeling  and  good  sense. "  —  Loomis  Journal,  New  Haven. 

.  .  .  "We  cannot  omit  to  express  our  high  appreciation  of  the  literary  character 
of  the  work,  and  the  moral  lesson  which  it  so  forcibly  inculcates."—  The  Alethodat, 
New  York. 

.  .  .  "A  hearty,  healthy  story.  The  atmosphere  of  the  book»is  clear,  and  in 
reading  it  you  enlarge  your  circle  of  pleasant  friends."  —  Courier.  Boston. 

.  .  .  "An  interesting  story  of  home  life,  not  wanting  in  incident,  and  written 
in  a  forcible  and  attractive  style.  Miss  Douglas's  previous  novels  have  been  very 
popular. "  t-Graph . 'c,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "  All  her  works  are  very  agreeable,  but  her  last  effort  surpasses  its  prede- 
cessors in  the  strength  and  force  of  her  characters,  and  the  breadth  and  finish  of  style." 
—  Item,  Philadelphia. 

.  .  .  "  To  those  who  already  know  Miss  Douglas's  power  of  investing  her 
characters  with  individual  life  and  personality,  it  is  not  necessary  to  say  that  this  is 
a  book  of  no  ordinary  excellence  in  this  respect" —  Tribune,  Detroit. 


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By  the  " Learned  Blacksmith' 


TEN    MINUTE   TALKS 

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WITH 


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.  .  .  "Mr.  Burritt's  writings  are  strongly  marked  by  the  vigor  of  his  character, 
and  contain  a  great  amount  of  careful  thought  and  happy  illustration."  —  Inter-Ocean, 
Chicago. 

.  .  .  "These  essays  form  a  book  full  of  very  pleasant  reading,  and  of  a  certain 
earnest  eloquence  and  thought  exceedingly  attractive  to  the  reader." — The  Post, 
Hartford. 

.  .  .  "The  present  volume  is  a  peculiarly  welcome  one  on  many  accounts.  The 
Autobiography  alone  would  make  the  book  popular."  — Hearth  and  Home,  New  York. 

.  .  .  "The  '  learned  blacksmith '  has  forged  many  a  fine  thought  and  sentence 
to  be  found  in  the  present  work."—  The  Bulletin,  Norwich. 

.  .  .  "The  writings  in  this  voluume  will  be  read  with  interest  both  from  their 
intrinsic  value  and  the  character  of  their  author.  They  are  mostly  plain,  direct,  un- 
affected statements  on  subjects  of  general  importance.  They  show  the  ability  of  the 
thinker  as  well  as  the  cultivation  of  the  scholar.  Wise  in  suggestion,  fertile  in  illustra- 
tion, and  happy,  often  pungent,  in  expression,  they  afford  a  favorable  specimen  of  the 
contributions  of  a  blacksmith  to  the  literature  of  the  country." — The  Tribune, 
New  York. 


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Mr.  Candle  Speaks. 


FIRESIDE    SAINTS 

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•  .  .  "An  array  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  irony,  sarcasm,  wit,  and  humor,  that  will 
be  welcome  to  his  admirers. "  —  Commercial  Bulletin,  Boston. 

.  .  .  "It  is  singular  that  so  large  a  number  of  such  delightful  papers,  by  that 
most  genial  jester,  Douglas  Jerrold,  should  have  lain  so  long  unbound."  —  The  Times, 
Chicago. 

...  "The  sketches  in  this  book  are  quite  diverse  in  character,  but  all  made 
pleasant  by  that  subtle  vein  of  humor,  that  quaint  fancy,  and  that  easy  and  graceful 
style,  which  lent  such  a  charm  to  all  of  Douglas  Jerrold's  works."  —  Golden  Age, 
New  York. 

.  .  .  "None  of  the  papers  in  this  volume  are  included  in  the  collected  works 
of  the  author,  and  will  therefore  be  read  with  keen  delight."  —  Advertiser,  Portland. 

.  .  .  "These  essays,  though  many  of  them  so  brief  and  light  as  to  be  prop- 
erly denominated  thumb-nail  sketches,  merit  preservation  with  the  other  writings  of 
this  spicy  and  pungent  author. "  —  Post,  Chicago. 

..."  Everybody  knows  Douglas  Jerrold—  he  of  the  caustic  humor  and  biting 
wit  ;  he  who  could  write  as  sweetly  and  sunny  as  the  most  genial,  and  at  the  same 
time  could  wield  the  arrows  of  satire  as  could  no  other  English  writer. "  —  Keystone, 
Philadelphia. 


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"A  Charming  Romance  of  Girlhood' 


SEVEN    DAUGHTERS 


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MTTHOR  OF   "STEPHEN   DANE,"   SYDNIE  ADRIANCE,"    "CLAUDIA,"  "KATHIB 
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.     .     .    "The  spirit  of  the  book  is  admirable."—  Transcript,  Portland. 

.  .  .  "A  natural,  vivacious,  pure  story,  one  of  Miss  Douglas's  best  efforts." 
Methodist,  N.  Y. 

.  .  .  "We  can  heartily  commend  it  as  unexceptional  in  its  teachings  and 
tendencies."— The  Christian  World,  N.  Y. 

.  .  .  "A  very  charming  and  lively  book,  the  sale  of  which  win  be  large,  for 
it  deserves  it." —  The  Standard,  Syracuse. 

.  .  .  "The  book  is  bright,  fresh,  and  unhackneyed,  and  gives  some  pleasant 
domestic  pictures."  —  Advance,  Chicago. 

.  .  .  "No  one  who  reads  faithfully  to  the  end,  can  help  being  won  by  the 
easy  naturalness  with  which  the  story  is  told."  —  Commercial  Bulletin,  Boston, 

.  .  .  "This  story  is  one  of  the  truest  pictures  of  home  life,  as  it  should  be, 
that  we  have  ever  read."  —  Christian  Era,  Boston. 

•  '  .  "  Of  our  modern  writers  of  fiction  we  know  of  none  whose  purpose  is 
purer,  or  whose  books  can  be  more  confidently  submitted  to  young  girls,  than  Miss 
Douglas's." — Boston  Journal. 

'  •  •  "Very  fresh  and  pleasant  reading,  with  touches  of  gentle  satire  and 
quiet  humor."  —  Christian  Intelligencer,  N.  Y. 


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"  The  most  Fascinating  Novel  of  tJie  Day'' 


THE   ITALIAN   GIRL 

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• 

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HEROINE  is  an  Italian  Girl  whose  romantic  experiences  are  very  interesting.— 
Pitt.  Ch'n. 

^MINENTLY  a  love  story  teaching  a  good  lesson.—  Portland Press. 

INTENSELY  dramatic  and  exciting.  —  ff.  B.  Mercury. 

I     HE  vivid  colors  in  which  characters  are  painted,  will  attract.  — Solent  Gasettt. 
J^  FASCINATING  and  weD-written  story.  —  Portland  Argus. 
J^IVELY,  fresh,  and  vivid.  —Provident*  Journal. 
TT  abounds  in  vigorou*  picttires  of  Italian  life. —  Boston  Transcript, 

£±     VERY  well-written  story,  romantic  yet  probable.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 
^TOVEL  of  rare  literary  and  artistic  merit  —Suffolk  County  Journal. 

GOOD,  especially  good,  is  the  part  which  treats  of  her  debut  on  the  stage.  — 
Palladium. 

IT  cannot  be  said  to  be  dull,  whatever  may  be  said  for  or  against  it—  Newport 
:.'.:.•• 

RECOMMEND  it  as  a  work  which  cannot  fail  to  interest  and  charm  them.— 
Boston  Gazette. 

LOVERS  of  art  and  Italy  will  read  with  keen  interest  this  fresh  story.  —  Bos- 
ton Traveller. 

"THE  ITALIAN  GIRL,  by  Mrs.  Katherine  Sedgwick  Washbum,  is  a  brilliant  and 
charming  love  story.  We  cordially  recommend  it  to  our  readers  as  a  work  that  cannot 
fail  to  interest  and  charm  them,  not  only  by  the  clearness  of  the  story,  but  by  the 
sparkling  and  artstic  manner  in  which  it  is  treated"  —  Boston  Gasette. 


LEE  A  SHEPARD,  Publishers,  Boston. 
LEE,  SHEPARD  &,  DILLINGHAM,  New  York. 


